


Captain America and the Angel of Death

by MissSlothy



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys In Love, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Intolerance, Kidnapping, Light Angst, M/M, Magic Revealed, Mystery, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25693978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSlothy/pseuds/MissSlothy
Summary: The State of Hawaii welcomes the rare people in the world who have magical, supernatural abilities - people like Steve and Danny.  But sometimes people come to the islands who aren't so tolerant.  People who are looking to make trouble...When Danny and Steve find themselves outed on social media, they have to fight to protect their reputations, their Ohana and even their lives.  And who is targeting Steve and Danny and why?
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 113
Kudos: 182
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Writers Month 2020. Writers Month 2020 is a writing challenge with daily prompts. The full list of prompts can be found here: https://writersmonth.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> I've chosen 9 prompts to make a whole story - magic, ocean, history, cooking, illness, myths, poison, dream, summer vacation.
> 
> This story is not set around any particular episode but Joe is dead. Doris is alive. And Quinn and Jerry aren't mentioned,

“Let us come in with you.”

Steve ignores Lou’s plea. Instead, he hands over his automatic weapon and gun. They won’t be any use in the warehouse: he needs his hands free. “Ho Lua has at least thirty men in there with him,” he reminds Lou, and Tani, Junior and Adam who are loitering nervously too. “They’ll kill Danny before we can get in there.” ,

“We can get up high, give you cover—”

Shaking his head at Junior, Steve pulls off his tactical gloves and digs in the pockets of his cargo pants. Pulling out another pair of gloves, he pulls them on. These ones are lighter, silky to the touch and cover his hands completely. Looks are deceptive though: the outer layer of fabric is woven with microbeads of Kevlar, to protect anyone who touches them.

Lou still looks doubtful. “You know I’d do anything to get our boy back but you’ve got a concussion, Steve. A bad one.” He taps the side of his head. “Are you sure you can still do it? You know…the magic.”

“I’ve got this.”

Lou shakes his head, doubtfully. “You want me to call the Guild? You know the rules, you need to call it in before you engage…” Sighing, he tails off.

Steve tugs the gloves one last time, checking they’re tight around his wrists. Lou’s right: he has got a concussion and a motherfucker of a headache. And he should call it in with the Guild. But the bastards who gave him that headache – who kidnapped Danny from their house, from their _bed,_ in the middle of the night – are very likely in that warehouse. And he wants those bastards. Badly.

A quick scan of the faces of the rest of his team confirms they are not happy either. This isn’t their first rodeo though and he knows they’ll do what’s needed. With one last nod, he turns and jogs toward the warehouse.

They are down by the docks. All the earth – the ‘āina – is covered with concrete. He can still feel her power leaking out, making the hairs on his body stand on end. She’s been muffled though by the greed and stupidity of men. He hadn’t lied to Lou about still being able to do his magic but the combination of the concrete and the concussion isn’t ideal.

Finding cover, he closes his eyes and reaches out with his mind. Under his feet he can feel the threads of magic running, like streams of water. Kneeling down, he places his palm on the concrete. Taking a deep breath, he calls her power to him. 

Warmth flows up through his hand.

The first hit is always a surprise, no matter how many times he does it. It’s like a shot of drugs to his bloodstream. He bites back a groan as his headache flares in reaction. Placing his other palm on the ground, he braces himself. Now the effect – and the headache – has doubled.

All his life people have asked him to explain what he’s doing. The best way he can describe it, is it’s like recharging a battery: his body’s carrying energy gifted to him by the ‘āina. It doesn’t last long but while it does it gives him ‘magical’ abilities. In his case, that means he’s able to shield himself from attack.

He’d been at military school when his magical talent had first shown itself. Bullies had been making his life hell. One day he’d been cornered by a group of boys, found himself shoved to the ground. Seeing red, he’d put his hands out to save himself and that’s when it had happened: the next boy who’d tried to hit him had come up against an invisible brick wall.

That first shield had lasted less than a minute, too ragged to sustain. It had been enough to get him noticed. The Guild of Magical Practitioners had been called in to assess him immediately. A place at Annapolis and a top-level military career was suddenly his. 

His skill had saved his life more times he could remember. It hadn’t saved Freddie’s or his Dad’s. 

He’s determined it’s going to save Danny’s. Standing up slowly, he pulls the energy towards him, mentally smoothing it into a bubble around his body. Straightening up, he heads inside.

Ho Lua’s men are waiting for him. Automatic gun fire rings out in the warehouse. In his ear, he can Lou yelling his name. Blocking out Lou, he focuses on maintaining the bubble of power as it warps under the onslaught. 

Engaging in hand-to-hand combat and maintaining the energy is something he’s been trained in ruthlessly. Doing it with a blinding headache, that’s more of a challenge. The burning sensation in his hands grows, a sign that the power is leaking out, seeking its home; the ‘āina.

_Fucking move,_ a voice in his head yells and he listens to it. Giving up any pretence of taking any of these bastards down, he starts running. Arms pumping, breath catching in his chest, he crosses the warehouse in seconds. Sparks fly off the concrete as bullets hit it: one of them bounces, pierces a weak spot in the bubble, strikes him on the ankle. 

Stumbling, cursing, he half falls through the door to the offices where they’re sure Danny is being held. Lou’s yelling louder now but he hasn’t got time to listen or reply.

More men swarm out of the offices, like angry bees defending their hive. In close quarters he’s got no choice but to engage. Fighting dirty is something he’s good at. Bodies start to fall. 

It’s taking too long though. The heat in his hands has turned to red hot pain. The headache is making it difficult to see. By the time he makes it to the last office, he’s almost on his knees. When he sees Danny in there – battered, bound, half-naked in his sleep shorts but alive, _fuck he’s alive –_ it takes everything he has left not to collapse with relief.

They’re not out of the woods yet though: more of Ho Lua’s men are piling into the corridor. In his ear he can hear Lou giving the order to breach but they won’t be in time to help him or Danny.

Crawling over to Danny, he notices with relief that Danny’s eyes are open and he’s tracking. The bottom half of Danny’s face has been taped over, layers of it. Ho Lua knew what he was doing: Danny’s mouth is his secret weapon.

Apparently it’s not a secret any more. Which can mean only one thing: someone in the Guild’s been talking – to the wrong people.

Steve dismisses the thought as he peels the tape off Danny’s face. He curses under his breath as Danny’s eyes widen with pain. Even with the gloves on, the heat and power is seeping through, leaking onto Danny’s skin. 

The voices in the corridor are growing louder as the last piece of tape comes away. Danny sucks in air gratefully but there isn’t even time for that. Tearing off the tape that’s securing Danny’s wrists he leans in and kisses Danny. Hard. Fast. Gratefully.

Danny gasps – it feels like a bolt of electricity has shot through both of them – as Steve rips off his gloves and offers his hands. “Do it.”

Danny looks confused for a moment, then understanding dawns. Ankles still tied with rope, he tries to shuffle away. “You’ll be hit too.”

Steve glances over his shoulder: they’re not the only people in the room now and he’s nearly running on empty. Grabbing Danny’s hands, he takes the decision out of Danny’s hands – literally.

Instantly the power senses a kindred spirit. Danny’s lips part, his pupils dilate, as the power transfers over to him. Steve lets it go, his body slumping as it empties itself. Unable to hold himself up, he slides to the floor.

“Babe…”

“ _Do_ it.”

For a moment he doesn’t think Danny’s heard him. Ho Lua’s men are nearly on them. Then Danny inhales, loudly. And it feels like all the air is being sucked out of the room.

Steve’s not the only one who can feel it. Ho Lua’s men have faltered too. Sharing confused looks, they look around them. Then, one by one, their eyes settle on Danny.

_Too late, you bastards,_ Steve grins, as Danny’s eyes flutter closed and he opens his mouth…to sing.

Danny hates it to be described as singing. Steve agrees. It’s more about how Danny harmonises his voice to every situation. Arguing. Laughing. Loving. 

Or in this case: sending people to sleep.

The first notes are warm and soothing. Quickly though they disappear off the scale. Steve’s vaguely aware of a high pitched whistle nudging at his already blinding headache. It vibrates in his skull, like a tuning fork, making his teeth ache. From his vantage point on the floor, he watches Ho Lua’s men start to fall. Then everything blanks out.

H50H50H50

“Careful, careful. Mind his head.”

It’s Lou’s worried voice that wakes him. That and being slung over Junior’s shoulder, in a fireman’s lift. The world passes in a blur. Concrete. Bodies. Dark. Light. And suddenly his headache is back with a vengeance. 

It’s impossible to contain a groan.

“We’re nearly there,” Junior murmurs.

Their pace speeds up to an almost dizzying rate. More concrete. Sunlight. Voices. Sirens. He can’t help himself, he groans again. Then the air cools and the concrete is replaced with grass and something deep inside him unfurls, reaching out for relief.

The world spins as he’s lowered to the ground. For a second he thinks he’s going to throw up. Before the nausea gets the better of him, his hands are placed palm down on the earth.

Energy flows into his body. Soft and sweet. Soothing. The pain in his hands lessens. The headache from the concussion is still there but that’s to be expected: the ‘āina gives only what is needed, she doesn’t perform miracles.

Opening his eyes, he sees blue sky. Pure blue. Not a single cloud in the sky. Birds are chirping in the trees. The sun and wind is kissing his skin. Gradually he feels less like he’s been hit by a train and more like he hasn’t slept for a week. 

As his mind comes back on line he realises he’s forgotten something. _“Danny—”_

Lou looms into his view, blocking out the blue sky. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. He’s right here.”

Following Lou’s eyes, he rolls his head to the right. Danny’s on the grass beside him. Wrapped up in blankets, his blonde hair peeking out just over the top, he’s fast asleep.

An overwhelming urge to have Danny in bed beside him – to have Danny in his _arms –_ assails him. Rolling his head back the other way, he meets his friend’s gaze. “Take us home, Lou.”

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Steve notices when he wakes up is that he’s not in his own bed. He’s not lying on the extortionately expensive (but amazingly comfortable) mattress that Danny had insisted on buying when he’d moved in two years earlier. The sun isn’t creeping through the curtains either, despite his internal clock telling him it should be by now.

There’s a moment of panic before he registers he’s in his guest room. His last memory from the night before is Lou and Junior herding him and Danny up here, steering them away from their own bedroom. Away from the scene of the crime. 

Danny. They took _Danny_.

_You got him back,_ the voice in his head soothes, nudging his groggy brain to remember the rest of the evening. The moment he’d fallen exhausted into bed with Danny. The way they’d reached out for each other, hands and lips reassuring each other they were battered but alive. How they’d finally fallen asleep, bodies entwined, neither of them prepared to let the other go. 

Danny is still asleep in his arms. Or maybe he’s still in Danny’s arms. It’s difficult to tell. What he does know is Danny’s head is resting on his chest, and Danny’s softly snoring. It’s the perfect angle to kiss Danny on the top of his head, to rest his hand there, protectively.

Reassured, he dozes off again.

When he wakes up the next time, the sun is coming through the curtains. The aches and bruises he’d picked up the day before are making themselves known. Left with no choice but to move, he shifts carefully, trying to extricate himself from Danny’s embrace.

He’s barely moved before Danny’s mumbling in his sleep. “’tay.”

Leaning back, he kisses Danny. Danny’s lips are soft, the kiss sleepy. Experiencing a strong urge to stay in bed, he pulls away: sadly there’s something demanding his attention more. “I won’t be long.”

Danny opens half opens one eye. “’wim?”

“Swim,” he confirms, dipping in for one more kiss.

Danny closes his eye again. “’kay.”

Steve smiles to himself as he closes the bedroom door behind him and heads downstairs. He’s always viewed sleeping as a necessity. A way to recharge his body for the next day. Danny, on the other hand, _loves_ sleeping. He sleeps like a giant cat: relaxed, boneless, his body sprawled and shamelessly on display.

A vivid image of Danny’s freckled tanned skin and toned muscles springs into his minds eye. On the second stair from the bottom, he pauses. Sighing loudly, he takes the last two steps in one bound.

Relieved to see the alarm system is set, he switches off the alarms at the back of the house. The team are still investigating how someone got into the house. He’s got his own ideas – ones that he’s not sure he’s ready to share – but that’s a problem for a later. 

Right now the ocean is calling him.

Magical abilities are rare in the 21st century. Although they are passed down through families they often skip a generation. Sometimes more. As the abilities have become rarer so has the knowledge about them. So he has no idea why he _needs_ the ocean the way he does. Or how it links to his powers. But it does.

Detouring long enough to grab a pair of swim shorts from the laundry he jogs outside. The sky is turning stormy. The waves look angry too. They perfectly reflect his mood. He dives in.

Drawing power, drawing ‘magic’, from the ‘āina always hits him like a bolt of energy. The power in the ocean is more like a gentle caress. He can’t use it to form a protective bubble – he’d learnt that the hard way during BUDs training – but it welcomes him. Works with him. It made him an idea candidate to be a US Navy SEAL.

His body’s tired. His mind is racing. The peace he usually finds in the water eludes him. He pushes on for a while but in the end the ocean makes the decision for him, pushing him back to shore.

As his feet hit the beach, he realises he’s not alone. Danny’s walking across the yard, heading for the beach chairs. A towel is draped over one shoulder and he’s carrying coffee mugs for both of them.

Steve slows, gives Danny time to sit and settle down. When he reaches the chairs, Danny throws the towel at him. Catching it easily, he drapes it over his head and starts to rub.

Peering out from under the towel gives him an excellent vantage point to check out Danny. Anger stirs in his chest at the bruises on Danny’s face. At the red, raw lines around his wrists. Danny’s wearing a frayed old tee and a pair of sleep shorts now, but last night he’d had plenty of time to see the bruises that litter Danny’s body.

“The Governor called.”

Steve drapes the towel around his shoulders, so he can see Danny: Danny’s tone is even but there’s a myriad of emotions seeping through his words. “Now?” He checks his watch – it’s 6.30am. “Did she say what she wants?”

Danny’s curled in his chair, legs tucked in, his bare feet perched on the edge. Arms resting on his knees, he meets Steve gaze. “Archer’s called too. Three times.”

Steve curses. Loudly. Henry Archer is the Grand Master of the Guild of Magical Practitioners (Hawai’i Chapter). Slumping down in his own chair, he takes the coffee Danny offers him. 

They sit in silence for a while, staring at the ocean, drinking their coffee. Eventually though, the coffee runs out. It’s time to talk.

“I didn’t call it in yesterday,” Steve confesses, reaching out to claim Danny’s hand. “I didn’t have time and they had you…” He trails off as Danny’s fingers intertwine with his. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like dealing with Archer,” he taps the side of his head, “with all of this. Archer doesn’t need both of us there. I’ll talk to him—”

Danny tightens his grip. “I’m coming with.”

“Danny…” His breath catches in his throat as Danny rubs his thumb across his knuckles. Soothing the fight-bruised skin. 

“You did what you had to, babe. All Archer cares about is protecting the Guild’s First Amendment. He’s not gonna say anything we haven’t heard before.”

Steve huffs his agreement. The First Amendment of the Guild’s constitution – practitioners must not use their talents to make money, generate publicity or discuss their talents or the Guild with the press – had been drawn up centuries earlier, when the only form of communication available was the printed word. In the modern age, the First Amendment is starting to creak under the pressure, along with Archer’s stress levels.

Danny yawns, a huge jaw-popping yawn. Gingerly, he puts one foot on the ground then the other, wiggling his toes in the sand and wincing as abused muscles protest. “I need food,” he pronounces, pushing himself to his feet. “Cooked breakfast. You in?”

“I’m in.” Sliding his arm across Danny’s shoulders, he pulls him in for a kiss. He’s planning to make it quick – using magical powers brings on a craving for carbohydrates that is difficult to ignore – but Danny’s up on tiptoes, tugging at the scruff of his neck, demanding more. His body responds, matching Danny’s desperate need to _touch_.

Danny pulls away, breathing hard. He leans into Steve, his forehead against his chest. “Jesus, when I woke up in that warehouse and you weren’t there I thought…I thought…”

“I know.” Steve wraps his arms tightly around Danny, exhales softly as Danny does the same to him. “I know.”

H50H50H50

They are both half way through a second plate of bacon, eggs and toast – the craving really is that bad – when Lou arrives. 

“You still look like shit,” he announces, helping himself to a coffee and taking a seat at the dining room table. “Glad to see you eating.”

Steve gestures at his plate with his fork: his mouth is full.

“I’m good,” Lou replies, correctly translating his question. “Not staying. HPD want help questioning the rest of Ho Lua’s men. Nothing so far,” he continues as both Danny and Steve raise their eyebrows at him. “Warehouse has come up empty too. There was nothing in it.”

Steve chews fast, swallows hard. “Nothing?”

“Nada. Zilch. Everyone we questioned says they were paid to guard Danny—”

“—and wait for you,” Danny cuts in, looking straight at Steve. “They didn’t ask me anything.”

“It’d be tough to answer with your mouth taped over,” Steve growls. Pushing his plate away, he runs his hand over his face. “Are any of Ho Lua’s men registered with the Guild?”

Lou’s expression turns into a murderous scowl. “No idea. Duke’s still trying to get the Guild to talk to us.”

Danny starts clearing away plates, his movements short and sharp. “We’ll talk to the Governor.”

“We’ve been summoned,” Steve explains, responding to Lou’s confused expression. “Archer wants to see us too.” 

“Kick his ass for me.”

Danny stops stacking plates. “We wish. I still don’t get it though. Why us, huh? Ho Lua wasn’t on our radar until they broke in.”

“Maybe one of the goons HPD has can help.” Lou finishes his coffee and gets to his feet. “Duke’s put a guard on the house. They’ll be out front.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest. Then he registers the warning look Danny’s giving him. Until they’ve figured out what’s happening extra security can’t hurt. 

After Lou leaves, they tidy up in silence. None of this makes sense. Hopefully the day will produce more answers. But first they have to meet the Governor and Henry Archer…

H50H50H50

“Thank you for joining us.”

_Like we had a choice,_ Steve thinks as he and Danny take a seat opposite the Governor. “Not a problem,” he replies, smiling at her. Turning his attention to the other person in the room, he kills the smile. “Archer.”

They’d expected to meet Archer later, at the pokey little office the Guild grandly calls its Pacific headquarters. Discovering on arrival that Archer was here, and joining them, has set alarm bells ringing.

Archer smiles back. In his mid-60s, grey-haired and rotund, his pale skin sticks out in present company. Despite having transferred from Montana to Hawaii two years previously, he still hasn’t adapted to the Hawaiian lifestyle. The dark suit and white open-necked shirt he’s wearing emphasise his status as an outsider.

The Governor clears her throat. “I was sorry to hear about what happened to you. How are you?”

“We’re okay,” Danny reassures her, grinning through the bruises on his face. “We’ve been through worse.”

The Governor nods. She doesn’t look reassured at all. “Captain Grover has kept me appraised. I understand you’ve had no interactions with Ho Lua. Do you know how they got into your house? I would have thought you’d…” She pauses, rethinking her words. 

Steve finds them for her. “You’re surprised they managed to jump us?”

“I wasn’t going to put it as bluntly as that.”

Steve breathes deeply. There’s only one answer but he doesn’t like it. “Ninjas.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shadow shifters,” Danny elaborates. “The Bogeyman.”

The Governor looks over at Archer. She raises an eyebrow. Shadow Shifters – also known as the Bogeyman or ninjas - are the stuff of legends…and nightmares. They move silently in the night and steal children from their beds. 

Archer screws up his face, like he’s sucked on a lemon. “They’re a myth. No one has been identified as a shadow shifter for over a century.”

“Apparently we’ve got one now.” Danny’s expression has turned mulish. “More than one. No one gets that close to Steve without him knowing. No one.”

Archer scoffs.

Steve’s mind fills with angry retorts. Before he can share Danny’s reaching out, resting his hand on his thigh. It’s casual. Relaxed. But it’s also possessive, a clear warning to anyone who wants to mess with Danny and his man.

Archer’s eyes bulge, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

The Governor’s lips twitch suspiciously. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t understand but if your attackers used magic, why didn’t you defend yourself with magic too?”

“The rules of the Guild strictly forbid the use of magical powers to defend yourself,” Archer jumps in, “unless you are carrying out duties as a legal representative of a government agency.” He glares at Steve. “Even then, all requests to engage in combat with magic have to be authorised by the Guild.”

“I think on this occasion we can let that rule slide. Lives were in danger and—”

Archer cuts the Governor off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The use of magical power must be controlled. Everyone accessing it must follow the procedures set down in the constitution. The Guild strictly forbids any deviation from the rules.”

Steve bites the inside of his lip to stop from talking. The Guild had been happy enough for him to use his skills to fight the Taliban. Hiding in the caves in Afghanistan he’d drawn on the ancient power of the land and used it not only to protect himself but to kill people. The Guild hadn’t given a fuck about their constitution back then.

A tap on his thigh brings him back to the present. As the room comes back into focus, he finds himself looking straight into Danny’s eyes. He sees worry there but also a cheeky sparkle. Instantly he knows what Danny’s thinking: _Archer’s such a dick._

Steve swallows the smile that threatens to erupt. Sliding his hand over Danny’s, he meets Archer’s gaze. “The men in the warehouse were employed by Ho Lua. We’re investigating his background but we need your assistance.”

“I don’t see why that’s my problem—”

Danny silences Archer with a glare that makes him rock back in his seat. “They taped up my mouth so I couldn’t speak, secured my hands, left me where I couldn’t reach the ‘āina—"

“So they knew about your powers—"

“Danny hardly ever uses his powers and never in public.” Steve knows his tone is bordering disrespectful - they’re sitting in the office of the Governor of Hawai’i – but he’s been patient for long enough. “Someone in your office has been talking, Archer. We need access to your records so we can check out Lua and his men and figure out what the hell is going on.”

Archer’s face turns red. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Yes it is.” The Governor’s spoken quietly. But it’s clear the arguing is over. “And you’ll start an investigation into your staff. I’ll expect your initial report on my desk in two weeks.”

“That’s not necessary. What happened to Detective Williams was pure co-incidence and nothing to do with powers or—"

“We’re done here.” The Governor raises her eyebrows at Archer, daring him to disagree. Tight-lipped, Archer looks away. “Keep me updated, gentlemen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve gets to his feet, Danny beside him. Archer’s slower off the mark but they have no intention of waiting for him anyway. 

They’re heading for the door when the sound of a ringing phone cuts through the silence. Archer mutters under his breath, digs around in his pockets. “I told them to hold my calls…”

“Is something wrong, Henry?”

Steve and Danny turn back: it’s rare for the Governor to use first names. Archer’s watching something on his phone. Eyebrows furrowed, all the blood has drained from his face. 

Archer looks up, meets their eyes. There’s anger in them. Red-hot, burning anger. He jabs the phone at them. “Did you do this?”

Steve shares a confused look with Danny: the accusation is being directed at them. His own anger growing, he takes the phone. Danny steps up beside him, a strong, calming presence by his side. There’s a video paused on the screen, posted on a Facebook account. He hits play.

Bile rises in his throat as he watches the video. Danny's horrified intake of breath says it all.

Someone filmed them in the warehouse. Only now it's been edited like a big-budget movie trailer. There are close-ups of him repelling Ho Lua's men using his powers. The angle it's been filmed at makes it look like an old-style martial arts movie; bodies flying through the air, hitting the concrete with bone-shattering force. It shows nothing of the desperate hand-to-hand combat. Or the final attack that almost brought him to his knees. 

Danny slumps against him as the video continues to play. Sliding an arm around Danny’s shoulders, he pulls him close. The way his power's been misrepresented is bad enough. But what it shows of Danny's is much worse.

Again the angle has been chosen carefully. The camera is focused on Danny, zoomed in so that he, Steve, has been cut out of the frame. Danny's eyes are closed, his face tilted upwards, his hair hanging messily across his forehead. He's smiling and despite the dirt and bruises on his face he looks breath-takingly beautiful. It's the power of the ‘āina, Steve realises, coursing through his veins. 

There's no sound but as Danny starts singing, the camera pans out wider, catching the moment Ho Lua's men start to fall. Like puppets without strings they crumble. Hitting the floor, they don't move, lulled to sleep by the sound of Danny's voice. But to someone who doesn't know, it's going to look very different. It's going to look like Ho Lua's men were killed in cold blood.

"It's gonna be okay." he whispers, automatically. He's going to make this right, no matter what it takes. Then the video ends, a blank screen appears and nausea threatens again as a caption rolls across the screen:

_Captain America and the Angel of Death._

_These killers are on our streets._

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The drive from the Governor’s mansion to the Palace passes in silence. Outside, the heavens have opened, delivering heavy rain. The Camaro’s windscreen wipers are fighting a losing battle, barely managing to push the water away before the view is obscured again. Traffic slows to a crawl but eventually they pull up outside the Palace.

Steve turns the engine off. Rain batters the roof of the car. It sounds like they’re being bombarded with tiny pebbles. “What are we going to do?”

Danny stares out of the window. His shoulders shift, an approximation of a shrug. “You were at the same meeting as me, Steve. The Governor’s told us to keep a low profile. We’ve got to keep out of trouble while this gets sorted.”

The rain is getting heavier. Louder. Steve raises his voice just loud enough to be heard. “I thought…I thought maybe you could take a vacation. Go see your parents, take Grace and Charlie with you.”

Danny twists in his seat, so they’re facing each other. “You want us to _run?”_

His mind recoils at the idea. But this isn’t about him. It’s all about Charlie and Grace. “It’s a strategic retreat. We regroup, figure out what the hell is going on and—"

“No.”

“Someone is coming for us, Danny. I don’t know why but we’ve got to assume the worse and—”

Danny stabs his hand down between them. His eyes flash bright with anger. “You remember the promise I made you, the first weekend we hooked up?”

Steve searches through his memories. He and Danny had spent most of that first weekend in bed. The details are sketchy. But there is one thing that stands out. His throat clogs with emotion as he remembers it. “You said you’d never leave me.”

Danny grabs his hand. “You promised the same.”

And he’d meant it. “Neither of us are leaving, I’m just—”

“—planning for the worse-case scenario? Yeah I get that, babe.” Danny lifts his hand to his lips, plants a kiss on his knuckles that sends a shiver down Steve’s spine. “You want to know what my worse-case scenario is? It’s leaving you here to face whatever’s about to happen on your own,” he continues, “and it’s not going to happen. I’m done with this conversation.”

Steve doesn’t get a chance to reply. Danny’s opening his door, ducking out into the monsoon level of rain. Left with no choice he follows, splashing through puddles as he sprints for the Palace.

Coming to a skidding halt inside the entrance hall, he shakes himself like a wet Eddie. Danny’s just ahead of him, talking to the guard at the first security gate. Danny’s soaked through, his dress shirt and pants moulded to his body. Normally that would be a huge distraction. What actually grabs his attention is the scowl on Danny’s face. It’s identical to the scowl the security guard’s wearing.

Stepping up next to Danny, he drags up his most winning smile. “Everything good here?”

“Peachy,” Danny replies dryly, tucking his ID card in his pocket before unclipping his holster and gun and putting it on the table. “Joe here is just doing his job. Right, Joe?”

“Right,” Joe mutters, waving Danny through the metal detector. Meeting Steve’s gaze, his scowl slips. “I need you to put your weapon on the table, Commander, and walk through.”

Steve meets his gaze. He holds it, waits until Joe blinks. They come through this entrance numerous times every day. No one ever asks for their ID. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Joe raises his chin, defiantly. “I’m following protocol.”

 _Bullshit,_ Steve thinks but there’s a queue building behind him. They’re drawing interest from the other security guards too. In one deliberate movement, he shows Joe his ID. He keeps it there, in front of Joe’s face, until the other man nods. Not waiting for further instructions, he walks through the metal detector and clips his weapon back on.

Danny’s already standing to one side of the entrance hall. Arms crossed tightly across his chest, his attention is on the opposite wall. Steve follows his gaze – and he feels sick. There’s a large TV screen playing the local news. His and Danny’s pictures are on there, the same images that are on their police ID cards. 

Grabbing Danny’s elbow, he steers them out of the main entrance hall and up the main stairs. He’s been in the cross-hairs of snipers plenty of times – looked down plenty of gun sights too – so he doesn’t need to look back to know they’re being watched by everyone in the entrance hall.

Danny shrugs out of his grip as they reach their floor. He lets him go. Deep in his own thoughts, he follows. Lou’s already contacted them to say that he, Tani and Junior are busy working through the transcripts from the interviews with Ho Lua’s men. Adam’s out somewhere, talking to his Yakuza contacts, hoping to uncover information on Ho Lua. So they’re not surprised to find they have the office to themselves.

Peeling away, they head for their own offices. Steve quickly swaps his damp polo-shirt for a dry-tee, retrieved from the bottom drawer of his desk. A dry pair of cargo pants would be good too but they’re in the team locker room, which involves another trip downstairs.

The invisible little devil, that’s been perched on his shoulder since they left the Governor and Archer, is goading him to go back down there. Listening to the voice of common sense instead he heads for Danny’s office. He’s just in time to catch Danny shrugging on a dry shirt, exposing the purple bruises that mark the skin across his shoulders.

Biting his tongue, he wraps his arms across his chest, glances away. When he looks back Danny’s tucking his shirt in his pants, smoothing back his still damp hair. 

Steve knows an embrace would be rejected right now. But that doesn’t stop him from coming to a halt behind Danny, resting his hands on his shoulders, brushing his lips across Danny’s ear, before moving away to take a seat on the sofa. 

Collapsing back into the cushions, he stares at the ceiling. “So what are we going to do?”

Danny’s leather chair squeaks as he sits, and leans back. “We need that video footage. The real version.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t disagree with Danny’s plan. Trouble is, unless Lou and the team have come up lucky, they’ve got no way to find that recording.

The sound of the elevator opening draws their attention. As one, they breathe a sigh of relief as they identify the footsteps approaching: Lou, Tani and Junior are back. Their relief turns to resignation as the footsteps slow, like they’re tiptoeing over eggshells. 

Steve waves them in. “I’m guessing you heard?”

Junior’s taken up guard duty, leaning against the door frame. “We saw.”

Lou’s halted beside him, filling up the doorway. “How you doing?”

Steve glances over at Danny, looking for help. There aren’t enough words to express how they feel. When Danny throws the unanswered question back with a flick of his hand, Steve goes for the truth. “I keep wondering why I didn’t go in there with backup like you wanted me to, Lou. If we’d used our weapons none of this would have happened.”

“Wrong.” 

Steve raises his eyebrows at Lou’s adamant tone.

“Sure, they wanted to catch you on video using your powers,” Lou elaborates, dropping to the couch beside him, “but I bet my left nut they would have still found a way to spin it even if you’d shot every guy in that warehouse.” 

Tani perches on the arm of Danny’s chair, leans so their shoulder’s touch. “Lou’s right, boss. Wouldn’t have mattered what you did. They’d have still edited the recording.”

“So how do we get our hands on the original?”

Lou exhales loudly. “Not from Ho Lua’s men. They’re scared. Real scared. They’d been told what to say and not a one of them deviated from that script. We do know they got paid three-hundred bucks each to turn up at the warehouse.”

Danny sucks at his bottom lip, muses that over. “That’s not a lot, not to get shot at. We know how they were recruited?”

“Guy came up to them in the street,” Tani explains. “They got no jobs. It seemed like easy money.”

“Mostly they come from Makaha and Waianae,” Junior adds. “They wouldn’t give us a description of the guy who talked to them.”

Steve nods. Makaha and Waianae are two of the poorest neighbourhoods on Oahu. The men would have been easy pickings. It’s starting to look like he and Danny aren’t the only victims in whatever is going on. That doesn’t mean Ho Lua’s men get a free pass though. “They been released yet?”

“This morning,” Lou confirms.

“Good. Let’s get their addresses and pay them a visit. It’s amazing what people will say when they’re not expecting you,” Steve explains, when Tani and Junior look surprised. “We’ve got to speak to Archer too. The Governor’s told him to carry out an internal investigation but we need to know how Ho Lua found out about Danny and me. If someone’s been hacking the Guild’s data that could be the link we need to lock this down.”

Danny leans forward on his desk, hands clasped. “The Governor told us to keep a low profile, babe.”

“This is low profile. We’re just asking a few questions.”

“You think Archer’s gonna just let us walk in there and—”

“Let me talk to Henry Archer.” Lou’s grinning. It’s all teeth, zero humour. “It’ll be a pleasure.”

“I doubt that,” Danny mutters, but his lips are twitching as he falls back into his seat. 

Desperate to be on the move, Steve gets to his feet. The others take that as their signal too: Waianae and Makaha are on the other side of the island, it’s going to be a long day. As Tani and Junior file out, Lou loiters. Looking at each of them in turn, he raises his eyebrows. “Is there any point in me telling you to stay here and let us handle this?”

Danny tucks his hands in pockets and shrugs. 

Steve gestures at Danny. “What he just said.”

Lou huffs loudly, already admitting defeat and heading for the door. “Be careful out there. Call me the first sign of trouble, understand?”

Steve tries for a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine, nothing’s gonna happen—”

Lou glares. “Understand?”

Chastened, Steve nods.

Danny waits for Lou to shut the door behind him. “You sure about this?”

Steve walks round the desk to join him. Draping his arms around Danny’s shoulders he pulls him close. “You said we shouldn’t run.”

Danny’s hands come to rest on his hips. Strong. Supportive. “So we’re gonna fight instead.”

“Is that a problem?” He pulls back to study Danny’s face. “If it’s a problem then Tani and Junior –”

Now it’s Danny’s turn to glare. “You have to ask?”

“ _No_.” He leans in to apologise with a kiss. “No.” Danny’s always been the one beside him in a fight. It’s a constant in his life. There’s no doubt. Only worry. 

“C’mon,” Danny urges, pulling him out of his head-funk with a shove to his chest. “Let’s go figure out what the hell is going on…”

H50H50H50

By the time they park up at the first house on the list, it’s stopped raining. Now it’s oppressively humid. Heat rushes into the Camaro as soon as they open the doors.

Puffing out his cheeks, Danny takes the lead. The street they’re on is lined with ram shackled houses and trailers. The house they’re visiting has definitely seen better days: one of the front windows is boarded up and the wooden lanai is rotten.

Knocking, they stand back. There are voices inside, loud at first and then quieter. Eventually the front door is opened, cautiously. The young woman who appears, in her teens, most definitely isn’t who they’re hoping to find. They ask after their suspect anyway, not surprised when she hasn’t seen him for days. They try a few more questions but it’s clear she either doesn’t know anything or isn’t willing to share.

Sharing a glance they silently agree to move on. They need to keep moving, before word gets out that Five-0 is out hunting. They’re backing away, thanking for her time, when a door inside the house opens and over the young woman’s shoulder they see an elderly Auntie. She looks awful, gaunt cheeks with shadows under her eyes. Covering her mouth, she makes a retching noise. Then the young woman is stepping forward, blocking their view.

“Do you need help?” Danny asks, peering round the young woman, to get a better view of the Auntie. “You don’t look so good.”

“She’s fine,” the young woman insists, trying to close the door.

Steve puts his foot in the way, to stop it closing. It’s not the Auntie who’s got his attention: it’s the fear on the young woman’s face. Softening his features, he bends down to catch her gaze. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She pushes on the door, hard enough to make him move his foot. “Go. Go.”

As the door starts to close, he can hear coughing. Deep, bone-wracking coughs that make him wince. “Do you need us to call 911? She really doesn’t sound so…good,” he trails off as the door slams in his face.

Danny gestures with a bob of his head that they need to leave.

Steve waits until they are out of earshot of the house before speaking. “Is it just me or was that strange?”

Danny risks a glance back over his shoulder at the house. “Kind of.” Pursing his lips in thought, he carries on walking. “Maybe she just doesn’t like cops.”

Danny could be right, Steve thinks, as they get back in the car. If he was her, he probably wouldn’t like cops either. But the Auntie really had looked bad.

Neither of them have much time to think about it. They’re not in the car for long before Lou calls. Putting Lou on loud speaker, Steve concentrates on driving to the next address on the list.

Lou gets straight to the point. “Archer’s gone.”

Danny answers for both of them. “What do you mean, he’s gone?”

“I spoke to his assistant. Archer flew to the mainland this morning. She doesn’t know when he’ll be back.”

Steve curses loudly. “What about the Guild’s database? Does she know anything about that?”

“She’s not very happy about giving us the information. I’ll talk her round. Thought you better know about Archer. If he is involved and he’s running then there’s a chance he’s told Ho Lua’s men and they’ll run too.”

“Copy that.” Steve pauses, his attention drawn to something happening outside. Beside him, Danny leans forward to get a better view. There’s a crowd standing out on the street they’re pulling into. There’s an ambulance too. And it’s parked outside the second house on their list. “I’m going to have to call you back, Lou.”

“Is that sirens I can hear?”

“We’ve got to go.”

“I’m sending Tani and Junior over there—”

“We’re okay—”

“Wait until they get there before doing anything stupid.”

Danny leans over to cut off the call. He waves at the scene outside. “You think that’s got anything to do with our case?”

Steve switches off the engine. “You believe in co-incidences?”

“Nope.”

Steve opens the door. “Me neither.” His sense of foreboding grows as they approach the crowd. First one and then another person spots them. People start nudging each other and looking over at them. 

“Guess they’ve got Twitter,” Danny mutters beside him, as they skirt around the crowd and head for the house.

Steve hums his reply. Part of him knows he should be worried. They’ve got no idea how the crowd’s going to respond to their presence. And the Governor’s going to be pissed because at least a couple of people have their phones out and they’re filming. But his attention is already moving to the house and what’s happening inside. Just as he’s about to go and find out, the front door opens.

Two paramedics appear, with a gurney between them. A woman is on the gurney, swaddled in blankets, with a drip in her arm and an oxygen mask over her nose. Walking alongside is the man they’ve come to see, Ocean Kahui. He’s carrying a baby in his arms. It’s tiny and it’s screaming, it’s little face red with anger.

Steve falters, looks over to Danny for guidance. Before either of them can say anything Kahui spots them. Panic flashes across his face. Clearly torn, his gaze darts from them to the gurney. Apparently coming to a decision, he pulls the baby closer, puts his head down and keeps following the paramedics.

Steve intercepts them. He feels like a bastard for doing it – the baby’s screaming louder now, an ear-piercing yell – but his instincts are telling him there’s something here he needs to find out. 

Pulling his badge out, he’s suddenly aware of the muttering from the crowd getting louder. Glancing around, he gets a phone shoved in his face. Only Danny stepping up beside him stops him from grabbing the phone and shoving it somewhere it probably shouldn’t go.

“It’s my wife,” Kahui stutters, as they turn their attention to him. “She’s been ill for days and the baby, the baby, she’s not feeding and I don’t know…I don’t know...”

Danny rests his hand on Kahui’s elbow. There’s another mutter from the crowd but Danny ignores them. “Let me take her,” he offers, softly. “Just while they get your wife in the ambulance, okay?”

Steve opens his mouth to protest. But this is Danny and it’s in his DNA to help, particularly where children are concerned. He looks on, pride warring with worry, as Danny takes the baby, lifting it into his arms.

“We’re here about Ho Lua and Henry Archer,” Steve starts, determined not to waste the opportunity he’s been given. “We understand you were paid by Ho Lua to—”

“No…” Kahui steps back, hands raised. “You have to go.”

“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t a good time but I’ve got a couple more questions and then we’ll go.”

“You don’t understand.” Kahui looks desperately at his wife, unconscious on the gurney. “He said he’d hurt her if I talked.”

Steve blinks, not sure he’s heard right over the baby’s screams. “Who said he’d hurt her?”

Kahui rubs his hands over his face. There are tears in his eyes. “The man who paid me.”

 _Ho Lua’s man._ Steve turns his attention to the paramedics. “What’s wrong with her?”

They eye him doubtfully. He’s not surprised. The crowd have moved in closer. All they want is to get out of there. “Probably just a bad case of stomach flu,” one of them offers grudgingly, as they prepare to load the gurney into the ambulance. “Symptoms presented two days ago.”

The baby lets out another scream. It’s breathing fast, it’s little lungs fighting to keep up. Danny cradles it in his arms and starts humming, a barely there sound. The baby notices though. Gradually it stops screaming, it’s discomfort reduced to tiny hiccups.

The crowd stills.

Steve steps up beside Danny, protectively. Without contact with the ‘āina Danny can’t use his powers but the crowd don’t know that. They don’t know that Danny’s always been good with children. That children love him in return. 

Danny rocks the baby one last time before handing her back to her Dad. Kahui manages a grateful, trembling smile. Holding the baby close, he climbs into the ambulance. The paramedic closes the doors and a few minutes later they’re gone, sirens blaring.

Steve rests his hand just above his holster as he turns to face the crowd. The knot of fear and anger that’s been lodged under his ribcage since he saw the video in the Governor’s office is growing. The urge to kneel down and tap into the ‘āina, to show the crowd what their power _really_ is, it’s almost overwhelming. 

“I got this, babe.”

Danny strides past him, close enough for their knuckles to brush. He comes to a halt in front of the crowd. There’s a man at the front with his phone out, filming them. He’s an islander, as tall as he is wide, and he has to look down at Danny to make eye-contact.

Danny glares back up at him. “Put that away. You got something to say me, you say it to my face. You understand?”

There’s a pause. Silence. Then the voices in the crowd start up again. But they’re lighter this time. Friendly. People nod. A couple of them even smile.

The man grins too, a huge smile that reaches his eyes. “Sure, brah.” Stuffing his phone in his pocket, he ambles off.

Gradually the crowd disperses, along with the tension hanging in the air. Steve watches them go, still unable to relax. There are still a few people loitering, anger in their eyes and phones in their hands. Danny eyeballs them. Grudgingly they leave.

Finally they’re alone. Danny breathes out, loudly. His body sags. “ _Shit._ ”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, willing himself to calm down. He’s been in much tougher situations than this. They both have. But this is an attack on his _family_ and he has no idea what is going on.

That scares the hell out of him.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Steve studies himself in the full length mirror in his bedroom. The dark blue polo-shirt he’s wearing is fresh out of the wrapper. The dark-coloured cargo pants are one of his better pairs, with no rips he’s repaired with his rudimentary sewing skills. Running his hands through his damp hair, he pats it down, until there’s a neat parting down the left side.

Satisfied with what he sees, he turns away. Fighting back a yawn, he sits on the bed and puts his boots on. Sleep had been slow coming the night before. The case. The Governor. What they’ve got to do today. It had all been playing on his mind.

Getting up, he checks himself one more time then heard downstairs. He’s pretty sure Danny hadn’t slept much either, despite pretending otherwise. He’s proved right when he gets to the kitchen. Danny’s already cooked a stack of pancakes and doesn’t look like he’s stopping any time soon. It’s a sure sign he’s stressed.

“I ran into Mrs Keowa when I put the trash out,” Danny says, not turning from the stove. “She gave me that.” He waves his spatula at the table then carries on cooking. “Page three.”

There’s a copy of the local newspaper carefully folded on the table. Steve opens it at page three. Reading the headline, he blinks. Frowns. Reads it again. It hasn’t taken the press long to pick up the video of Danny singing to the baby. “So now you’re ‘The Baby Whisperer’?”

“Gotta be better than ‘The Angel of Death’, right?” Danny replies, in a tone that suggests otherwise.

Steve folds it up, throws it down by the trash can. “No one’s going to read it anyway.”

Danny starts stacking pancakes on plates. “Tell that to the people who have called the HPD switchboard asking for me to help with their kids.”

The words slip out: “You’re joking?” The anguished look Danny throws at him tears at his heart. Wrapping his arm around Danny’s shoulder, he pulls him in close, in silent apology. Danny resists for a moment, but then gives up the spatula and pancakes in exchange for a full body-crushing hug.

Steve lets him go a minute later. He can still feel the anger and frustration radiating from him. It’s how he feels too. They keep hitting dead ends with the case. Archer flew into Vegas and they still haven’t found him. Adam’s put out feelers with the Yakuza to find Ho Lua but even they call him a ghost. After Ocean Kahui’s confession that Ho Lua’s man had threatened him, they’d managed to get several of Ho Lua’s men from the warehouse to confess they’d been threatened too. There are probably more but they’d still been too terrified, even with the promise of police protection.

Talking of police protection: the Governor’s ordered HPD to put a guard on their house 24/7. “Do the guys out front want coffee?”

“Already done.” Grimacing, Danny starts picking up plates. “There are reporters at the end of the road.”

“What? Why? I don’t get—”

“Slow news day?” Danny shrugs, heading for the dining room. “Bring the syrup, babe.”

“I’m gonna go out there and tell them the truth about—”

“Come eat.”

Danny’s not asking. He’s telling. Steve knows he’s right but frustration makes him baulk at his tone. “They _kidnapped_ you. They…they hurt you, Danny. And now _we’re_ the bad guys. Screw this—"

“Would you please just come and eat?”

Exhaling loudly, Steve takes a seat. Danny’s pancakes are amazing, he reminds himself. There’s no way he’s going to let them go to waste. It would be like letting the bastards win.

As he covers his pancakes liberally with syrup, he wonders how Kahui’s wife is doing. They’ve been getting regular updates from the hospital; her condition hasn’t improved. The doctors are still carrying out tests, unsure what’s actually wrong with her. 

“Maybe I’ll call Noelani,” he muses out loud as he loads his fork with pancake. “Ask her to reach out.”

Proving they’ve both spent the whole night obsessing over the same things, Danny nods. “Good idea. It might just be bad luck that Kahui’s wife is sick now but I don’t think so.” He stacks pancakes on his own plate, then swamps them with maple syrup. “We’ll go see her once we’ve done this thing for the Governor.”

Steve chews at his pancakes slowly. It feels like they’re going to stick in his throat. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Danny snorts around a mouthful of food. “The Governor ordered us, Steve, so yeah, I think we’re doing it.” 

Steve matches his snort. “She was pissed, huh?”

“I think her protection detail might be monitoring social media 24/7 now.”

Steve laughs despite the heavy mood. Danny’s laughing too and it feels good. For a while the worry falls away and they banter their way through breakfast as normal as they plan out their day. 

The pancakes are sitting heavy on his stomach though. After just three pancakes he has to push his plate away. “Not hungry,” he lies, when Danny raises his eyebrows at him. He hides a wince as his stomach cramps. It really isn’t happy.

“I’ll give the guys out front the rest,” Danny suggests, already getting out two more plates. It doesn’t escape Steve’s notice that Danny’s not really eaten either. Nerves, he tells himself, as he clears up and Danny heads outside. 

Eventually they’re ready to leave. Danny stops him at the front door. Checking him out from head to toe, he slides his hand down over his pecs, coming to rest on his belly. “You look good, babe.”

Steve tries not to squirm away: Danny’s touch is tickling him. “You’ve cleaned up good too. “ Curving his hand around Danny’s hip he pulls him closer, dips in for a kiss. Danny smells of musk and sandalwood. His tanned, freckled skin looks amazing against the light blue button-down shirt he’s wearing. His body responds. With a groan of regret, he pulls away.

Danny watches him for a moment. Then he smiles. Fond and full of love. Steve grins back, his heart soaring. This will never get old, he thinks, sliding his hand down over Danny’s ass and nudging him out of the front door. Whatever’s happening right now, they will _always_ have this.

H50H50H50

Steve freezes as they peer around the door, into the classroom. “Oh my god, there’re hundreds of them.”

Danny, the bastard, sniggers. “There’s like twenty of them, Steve.”

“But they’re so…tiny.”

Laugher behind them makes them turn. The Principal of the school smiles back at them. “Don’t let that fool you. They’re might all be seven years old but they’re wise beyond their years.”

“Tell me about it,” Danny agrees, “my daughter Grace, she was seven going on twenty.”

Steve glares at him. This really isn’t helpful. The Governor’s sent them as a public relations exercise, and as a favour to the Principal who is her friend. The children have been worried about what they’ve heard about people with powers. They’re here to show they’re just normal people. 

Last night he’d spent hours on the internet, researching the history of people like him and Danny with powers. About how during the Civil Wars in America and Europe people with powers were conscripted to fight on the front line. As the death rate had rapidly risen, people with powers had gone underground. Others, sensing an opportunity, had set up an illegal market to sell their powers. But what was considered acceptable during war wasn’t during peacetime. Once the need for powers was removed, fear of the unknown took over. World-wide controls were put in place, the Guild of Magical Practitioners was set up. Two World Wars had made things even worse, sending more people underground. In the 21st century, barely anyone knows how the powers _actually_ work.

In his head he’d worked out what he was going to say. Looking at the children, he knows it isn’t going to work. “Danny—”

“It’ll be okay,” Danny cuts in, like a mind-reader, “we’ll go in there, tell them about some of the cooler powers. What was that trick that guy in Chicago could do?”

Steve wracks his brain to remember everything he’d read on the internet. “The guy who could make ice cream with his hands?”

“Yeah. Touches things, they turn to ice.” Danny fans his hands out. “Poof. Instant Ben and Jerrys.”

“They’ll love that.” A young woman is standing in the doorway, the teacher. “Hi, I’m Mallory,” she says, offering them her hand. “My brother’s a sand shifter,” she adds casually, waving them in, “and the children are very excited to meet you.”

Steve shares a surprised look with Danny as he follows her in. Nobody ever confesses in public that they know someone with powers. _Never_. It’s sent a shiver down his spine: part trepidation but mostly excitement. All of a sudden, this visit has taken on a whole new meaning.

Straightening his shoulders, he smiles at the children. His heart lifts when they smile back.

H50H50H50

Twenty minutes after entering the classroom, Steve’s feeling quite proud of himself. With Mallory’s help they’ve explained some of the history and how the powers work. They’ve managed to come up with lots of examples of powers that the students seem fascinated about. More importantly, not once has he mentioned killing, death, guns or pointy lethal weapons. 

Right now Danny’s telling them about the man who can make ice cream. He’s in full story-telling mode. Hunching down so he can get the children’s attention, he’s using his hands to illustrate the story he’s weaving. Wide-eyed the children’s eyes are following him. It’s a thing of beauty to watch.

Grinning, Steve sits back and just enjoys it. How anybody could imagine Danny as ‘The Angel of Death’ is totally beyond him. Danny’s got the biggest heart and he wears it on his sleeve. At least this group of children have got to see the real Danny. Hopefully they’ll go home and tell their families.

Maybe, he concedes silently, this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. 

Mallory clears her throat, dragging him out of his daydream. Blinking, he realises Danny’s stopped talking and he’s watching him. The smile Danny’s wearing is all for him. It makes his heart skip a beat.

“Thank you Steve and Danny for sharing all these great stories,” Mallory says brightly. “Now, has anyone got any questions for them?”

No one had mentioned there would be questions. Mildly panicked, Steve starts working back through all the stories in his head. Beside him, Danny looks equally startled.

There’s a long silence. Then a hand goes up at the back. Mallory nods at the little boy: “What’s your question, Benji?”

Benji pins Danny to the spot with a very serious stare. “You look like Jigglypuff.”

Danny raises his eyebrows at Steve. Steve shrugs back. He has no idea what a jiggly-thing is but apparently the children do. They’re chattering loudly amongst themselves, throwing shy glances in Danny’s direction. Mallory’s no help either: she’s covered her mouth with her hand to hide a grin.

“Okay, okay.” Danny raises his hand in surrender. “I’m an old guy. You’re gonna have to tell me what a jiggingpuff is.”

“Jigglypuff,” Benji corrects him. “It’s Pokemon.”

 _Ah._ Pulling his phone out, Steve types it in. The spellings not right but it’s close enough and as soon as the picture comes up he knows it’s the right one. It’s pink, round, with big blue eyes, just like Danny’s. According to the text underneath it sings and sends people to sleep. What really seals the deal though is the quiff of hair – it looks just like Danny.

Chuckling, he gives Danny his phone. He’s going to have so much fun with this.

Danny frowns as the reads it. Shaking his head with mock-despair, he gives it back. His eyes are laughing though as he shrugs, conceding defeat. “You’re right, Benji. I am Jigglypuff.”

Benji whoops. There’s more chatter: apparently Danny’s just gone up in their estimation even more. It takes Mallory several attempts to quieten them down again. Then a little girl at the front of the audience puts up her hand.

“What do you wear in bed?”

All the children start giggling. It takes Steve a moment to realise she’s looking straight at him. There’s a snort of laughter beside him. Looking at Danny isn’t an option: he knows he’ll loose if he does. There’s no way he can answer that question honestly.

Luckily, Mallory takes pity on him. “I explained to the children that Captain America is a comic book hero but that both of you are policeman so you’re the real heroes. We talked about what a hero is.” She shrugs apologetically. “They love the uniforms.”

The little girl leans forward, pinning him to the spot with a piercing stare. “You don’t have a zipper in your uniform,” she explains, sounding like an adult talking to a small child.

Steve looks down at his pair of cargo pants with all its zippers. “I don’t?”

“Nope.”

Mallory smiles. “Lucy is talking about your Captain America uniform.”

Lucy looks so serious, he hasn’t got the heart to shut her down by explaining he’s not Captain America. ”Okay.” He parses back through her question, like he does for Charlie sometimes. “So what you want to know is, if I don’t have a zipper on my uniform, do I have to wear it in bed?”

Lucy’s grin is radiant. “Yup.”

He considers his options for a moment. “I’m going to let you into a secret, okay? It’s an invisible zipper.”

“Really?” Lucy sounds doubtful. Very doubtful.

He leans down so their eyes meet. “It doesn’t work so good though. It’s really hard to find when you need to pee.” Twisting his arms round his back, like a pretzel, he mimics trying to find the zipper. It causes more laughter, just like he knew it would but Lucy’s still watching him like a hawk. Sobering, he gives her the attention she deserves. “You’re clever, Lucy. Could you design a new uniform for Captain America?”

“You could draw one, couldn’t you?” Mallory encourages, with a gentle smile. “We could all do that, couldn’t we?” she tells the whole class. “Let’s thank Danny and Steve and then we’ll draw pictures of Jigglypuff and Captain America.”

H50H50H50

They escape soon after. Danny nudges him on the elbow, hurrying him along. Not needing to be told twice, Steve lengthens his stride. Laughter’s bubbling under his ribs. They’re just beyond hearing distance of the classroom when he can’t hold on any more. He lets it out, a deep belly laugh that makes his ribs ache. Beside him Danny’s bent over, hands resting on his knees, laughing so hard he’s barely standing.

It feels good. _Fuck,_ it feels good.

Straightening up, Danny wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “An invisible zipper. Really, babe?”

Steve straightens too. He gives Danny his best mock-hurt look. “I thought that was a great idea.”

Danny digs his phone out and starts scrolling through screens. “I’m pretty sure that was just an excuse to mention bodily functions. You’re such a child.”

Steve shifts, to look over Danny’s shoulder. “Are you checking out Captain America’s dick?”

“Lucy’s right. No zipper.”

“We’re standing in an elementary school and you’re checking out Captain America’s _dick_.”

Danny wiggles his eyebrows at him. “You jealous?”

Steve crosses his arms. “Now who’s being a child, huh?”

Danny sticks his tongue out, proving his point, before going back to his phone. 

Steve digs out his own phone, flicks back through the history. Grinning he hits play. “You’ve got a song, Danny.”

“What the hell—”

“It’s the Jigglypuff song.” Lifting his arms to abort Danny’s attempt to grab the phone, he turns up the volume. The tune is terrible but it’s worth humming along to it to see Danny’s reaction. “He even looks like you, after you’d been out in the sun too long…get off!”

Danny’s tickling him. Tackling him to the ground. Before he can stop him Danny’s got his phone, dodging out of his reach. Watching the video, he starts to laugh. He tilts the phone to show the screen. “Have you seen what he does to people after they fall asleep?”

Steve grabs it back, switches it off.

“Sharpie pens,” Danny chuckles, “he writes on their faces with Sharpie marker pens.”

Steve nudges him to start walking again. They’re due to meet Noelani in thirty minutes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Danny _so_ would. It’s time to bring out the big guns. “I wonder if Charlie would like Pokemon—”

That earns him another poke in the ribs. “If Grace or Charlie find out about Jigglypuff it’ll be permanent Sharpie pens, babe, you understand? The ones you can't wash off.”

Laughing, he pushes open the door to the parking lot. “Copy that.”

They’re still riding the high as they head for the car. A day that started so badly is looking up. Of course, it doesn’t last. 

They’re weaving their way through the parking lot when they spot three teenage boys standing on the far side of the Camaro. They’re dressed in black tee-shirts and jogging pants and their body language is making them look suspicious as hell. As they watch they realise there are actually four of them – the other boy is just out of sight, kneeling down on the tarmac.

Breaking into a run, they move to intercept them. Strangely, there’s no need. Instead of running, like they expect them to, the boys look pleased to see them. Eager even. 

Steve shares a confused look with Danny. Alarm bells ringing in his head, he slows to a jog. They left their weapons in the car. They’re not exactly unarmed. But do the boys know that?

As they round the car, he gets his answer. On the side of the Camaro the word ‘Killers’ has been sprayed in white paint.

He grabs hold of Danny’s arm just in time to haul him back. It takes all his body weight to keep Danny there. Two of the boys take a step forward, challenge in their eyes. One of the others has his camera out and is filming them.

Repeating Danny’s name under his breath, Steve wills him to calm down. He gets it, they’ve defaced Danny’s most prized possession with a lie that hurts like hell. His first reaction is to knock sense into them too – but that’s the last thing they need on film right now.

“Okay, okay.” Danny wrenches away, takes a few steps, smooths his hair back into place. Turning back, he looks the boys in the eyes. Their hard expressions slip, the first signs of doubt creeping in. 

Steve’s not surprised. He’d find it hard to hold his ground in the face of that much anger too.

Danny studies each of them in turn. His gaze settles on the two boys at the back. They’re squeezed up against the Camaro, looking like it’s the last place in the world they want to be. “Who put you up to this?”

“What, you don’t like it?” one of the boys at the front sneers. “The truth hurts, huh?”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Danny barely spares the gang leader a glance. “I’m going to ask you again. Who put you up to this?”

The other boy at the front swaggers forward a step. “You do requests, man?”

“Yeah, come on dude,” the gang leader taunts, taking another step forward, “sing for us you motherfu—”

In the blink of an eye the gang leader is on the ground, with his face in the dirt and Danny’s knee in the small of his back. He groans as Danny twists his arms behind, locking handcuffs around his wrists.

“Lets start this again,” Steve cuts in smoothly, picking up where Danny left off. “Who put you up to this?”

“This is police brutality,” the second boy protests, shifting so his friend can capture everything on the phone, “if anyone’s watching this we need you to call 911. We’re at Kahelmona Elementary on—"

Steve grabs the phone, kills the power. “You’re done.” Raising a warning finger at the second boy, he turns his attention to the others. “We’re gonna arrest you for damage to police property. The only way you avoid a trip to the station is by telling us who told you to do this.”

For a second he doesn’t think his ploy is going to work. There’s obviously a pecking order in this little gang and the boys backed against the Camaro look terrified. He gives them a Navy SEAL stare to help them along.

The youngest looking of the boys breaks first. “We were sitting over there,” he stutters, pointing at a wall at the edge of the parking lot. “He offered us cash. Told us all we had to do was make you mad and film you.” He stares at his feet as his friends glare at him. “My mom’s gonna kill me.”

Danny gets to his feet, pulling up the ringleader with him. “Did he tell you to write that shit on my car?”

“That was me.” The second boy has the sense to avert his eyes as he confesses. “We’re artists and—”

“Graffiti,” Steve cuts in. His patience is rapidly wearing thin. “Also criminal damage.” Scanning the parking lot and the buildings around it, he comes to a decision. “You,” he says, pointing at the two youngest boys, “are going to try and wipe that paint off our car before it dries. Use your tee-shirts. The rest of you, take a seat, get comfortable,” he orders, gesturing at the tarmac. “None of us are going anywhere until we’ve checked out these CCTV cameras and you’ve identified who this guy is…”

TBC And for those who don't know what a Pokemon Jigglypuff looks like (I didn't - thanks to the lovely Iby for educating me) here he is:


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m grounding you.”

Steve glances over at Danny, not sure he’s heard the Governor correctly. “You can’t do that. We’ve finally got a lead, the team are checking out the CCTV cameras at the school—“

The Governor folds her hands, resting them on her desk. “Think of it as a vacation, Steve.” She pauses, her expression softening. “The Guild are sending a replacement for Archer tomorrow. Someone from Washington who will act as Grand Master until a permanent replacement can be appointed. They’re not happy and it’s probably best if you’re not here when they arrive.”

Danny throws his hands in the air. “ _They’re_ not happy? We’re the ones being attacked on social media for something we didn’t do and the Guild is letting it happen.”

“They mentioned that. In fact they mentioned the First Amendment of the Practitioners’ constitution several times—“

“We haven’t contravened the First Amendment,” Steve cuts in, unable to hold back any longer. “None of this has been our fault. If the damn Guild didn’t have the First Amendment banning the public promotion of powers more people would understand how they actually work and things wouldn’t have gone this bad, this fast. Those people out there don’t know anything about us and Ho Lua or whoever the hell is doing this is using their ignorance to scare them…” He tails off, suddenly aware of how angry he sounds. “I’m sorry but—“

“I’m sorry too.” The Governor sighs. “I shouldn’t have asked you to go to the School to talk to the children.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” Danny sounds tired. Incredibly tired. Slowly he gets to his feet. “Those kids didn’t care, they thought powers were cool. There’s nothing wrong about that.”

Danny turns and walks out. To Steve’s surprise the Governor doesn’t stop him. Instead she leans back in her chair, closes her eyes as she pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“Go home, Steve. Look after each together while we figure this out.”

“Governor—”

“I’ve briefed Captain Grover. He’s waiting downstairs. He’ll take you home.”

Steve hesitates. There’s so much he wants to say. He’s used to his life being unfair but this is affecting Danny too and that’s something he just can’t accept. It looks like he’s going to have to for the moment though because the Governor’s still got her eyes closed. The conversation is ended.

He finds Danny waiting outside. Leaning against the wall, arms and legs crossed, he looks set to explode. It seems impossible that only a few hours earlier they’d been talking to the children and laughing about Jigglypuff and Captain America. Nudging Danny with his elbow, he indicates they should go.

Danny exhales loudly but does as he’s told. Sharing a resentful silence they head downstairs.

In the end they’d had to get the Camaro towed to the HPD garage. The boys couldn’t get the paint off and driving it back to headquarters with the graffiti on it hadn’t been an option. Hitching a lift with a HPD officer, they’d almost made it to the office when a call from the Governor had got them diverted.

Lou’s waiting outside in his truck for them. Sensibly, he keeps quiet on the ride home. In the back seat Steve threads his fingers through Danny’s and holds on tight. Danny’s radiating anger, his body tense. He wants to kiss him, to tell him it’ll be alright but he knows it’s not the right time. And not just because Lou’s watching.

As they approach their house, his own anger grows. That morning there had been one set of reporters. Now there’re three vans parked by the side of the road. Two HPD officers are talking to them and their timing is perfect. It allows Lou to drive past without the reporters trying to peer through his tinted rear windows.

As Lou pulls up on the driveway, they get another surprise: all the team members’ cars are parked there.

Getting out of the truck, Steve throws Lou a warning look. “We’re grounded, Lou. If the Governor finds out the team is here…”

“Oh, she knows,” Lou shoots back, waiting for Danny to get out then locking up the truck. “She was the one who suggested it.”

Danny’s gone ahead but he turns back in surprise. “She was?” 

“Hmm hmm. She thought maybe the team should have some…bonding time.”

“ _Bonding_ time?” Steve frowns as they make it to the front door. “She knows we’ll talk about the case, right?”

“Well here’s the thing,” Lou confesses, “we didn’t actually discuss that.”

“Whoops,” Danny intones, dryly.

Lou shrugs. “Whoops indeed.”

Steve feels like hugging Lou (and the Governor) as he walks inside. The team, his Ohana, are in the living room, taking up the space like they own it. The feeling of being loved, of being _home_ is almost overwhelming. Blinking, he looks away. The touch of Lou’s steadying hand on his shoulder only makes it worse.

Danny doesn’t look any better. Swallowing hard, he claps his hands together. “Great. First you invade our home and now you’ll expect me to feed you. Am I right?”

Tani’s sitting on the sofa, next to Junior. She flutters her eyelashes at him. “We’re _starving_.”

“You got any of your pasta sauce?” Adam asks from the recliner. 

“With garlic bread and that dangly pasta stuff,” Junior adds, sounding like he’s drooling as he talks.

“Tagliatelle,” Danny corrects him, already heading for the kitchen. “You’re animals, you know that?”

“I think you might have mentioned that before,” Steve shoots back, grinning as Danny gives him a mock-glare and disappears from sight. Letting out a sigh of relief, his body sags.

“Sit,” Junior orders, getting up and waving him over. “I’ll get the beers.”

“I’ll see if Danny needs a hand,” Adam offers, indicating to Lou that he should take his place on the recliner. 

“Good luck with that,” Steve tells Adam, as he gratefully sinks down onto the couch. He really does feel beat, mentally and physically. And his stomach still isn’t happy with its life.

It’s nothing that Danny’s pasta sauce won’t fix, he thinks, shifting to get comfortable. He’s pretty sure it’s got healing properties; it always makes him feel better. 

“Hey, Steve. Still with us?”

He must have dozed, he realises. Junior’s back and the smell of pasta sauce is drifting from the kitchen. “Thanks,” he says to Junior who’s offering him a beer. He takes a sip. It hits his stomach like a ship fighting a stormy sea. Lowering the bottle, he rests it on his knee.

“Did you speak to Noelani?” he asks, pretending not to notice Lou who is pretending not to watch him. “Any news from the hospital?”

“It’s not good.” Lou puffs out his cheeks, huffs out slowly. “The baby’s not doing so good either. Not keeping food down, antibiotics are doing squit. Docs are scratching their heads. They’re still running tests, discounting viral strains that would cause that level of infection. It’s gonna take time.”

“Assuming they’ve got time,” Tani says quietly.

Danny appears out of the kitchen, a bowl of pasta in his hand. He’s just in time to hear the bad news. His face falls.

Steve pushes himself upright, forces a smile on his face. “Let’s eat.”

Danny’s loitering as he gets to the dining room table. Steve pecks him on the lips, tries to exude some energy that he’s definitely not feeling. Danny returns the kiss with a look that says he’s not fooled. Then, with a final look, he goes to get the rest of the food.

It’s not long before they’re all sat around the table, demolishing the food Danny has conjured up. The chatter is light-hearted, familiar and warm. Steve watches them with a fond half-smile on his face. Pushing his food around his plate, he waits until everyone’s plates are nearly cleared before speaking.

“So what do we know?”

“Chin and Abby have got contacts putting out feelers for Archer in Las Vegas,” Lou confirms, mopping up the last of his tomato sauce with a piece of garlic bread. He takes a huge bite, humming appreciatively. “Damn, this is good.”

Danny mimics taking a bow.

Sitting beside him, Steve grins. His love for Danny is total. Something that simmers in the background, no matter what’s going on in his life. But Danny’s obvious joy at being complimented on his cooking makes his heart swell with love even more.

“Get a room,” Lou mutters under his breath, predictably. Sadly, there are more important things to talk about. “The Guild’s records weren’t hacked but it looks like Archer downloaded all their personal records. So we’ve got to assume someone paid him to do that. Trouble is, the Guild are locked down tight. Nothing is coming out of there until the new head honcho arrives.

“We’ve got nothing on Ho Lua either,” Adam confirms, wiping his mouth with his napkin, his voice laced with regret. “He’s a ghost. No one knows where he came from.”

Steve nods. He’s disappointed but not surprised. “And the guy at the school? Anything on the CCTV?”  
  
Lou digs his phone out of pocket. Swiping through the screens, he hands it over.   
  
Steve studies it, tilting it so Danny can see it too. It’s blurred but the picture’s good enough to see a white male, with dark hair, in a cut that’s very similar to Danny’s; a quiff over the top and shaved at the sides.  
  
“Don’t recognise him,” Steve confirms, speaking for both of them. “What have we got on him?”  
  
Lou takes the phone back. “Five different aliases in nine different countries, mostly Asia and the Middle-East.”  
  
Steve’s heart sinks. “He’s a gun for hire.”  
  
“A good one, if his resumé is anything to go by. He’s managed to stay under the radar for nearly five years. Never gets caught.”  
  
“Until now?”  
  
Adam grimaces. “We haven’t caught him yet. We’ve put an APB out, to all the hotels, airports and ports but so far nothing. And let’s be honest, if this guy is a pro, he’s not going to be holed up at the Hilton.”  
  
“No, he’s not.” Danny chews at his lip, thinking. “So what we’re saying is we’ve got nothing?”  
  
Lou’s expression turns determined. “We’ll find him.”  
  
Steve sighs, he can’t help himself. This guy, whoever he is, is running rings around them. Destroying their lives. Their reputations. They’re being played. He _hates_ being played. 

“Maybe we should go back to the start,” Junior suggests, his hand hovering over the last piece of garlic bread.

“Eat it,” Danny orders. “What do you mean, ‘the start’?”

“Who else knows you have powers?” Tani cuts in, rolling her eyes as Junior stuffs the bread into his mouth in one go and chews it with his mouth open. “We’re assuming Archer handed over data to Ho Lua, or whoever they are, but what if that’s a smoke screen?”

Danny cocks his head on one side, considering. Looking into Steve’s eyes, he raises his eyebrows.

Steve considers that idea. Their powers are not something they usually talk about but needs must. Sitting back in his chair, he nods.

“I was thirteen when I realised I had powers,” Danny breathes, reaching out blindly to rest his hand on Steve’s thigh and making contact. “My great grandma Ellie, she was a nurse in France during the First World War. People used to say she could make people’s pain disappear.”

Tani whistles under her breath. “Wow.”

“They exaggerated,” Danny continues, “but I guess when you’re in a field hospital with no access to pain relief drugs anything feels good.”

“It skipped that many generations?” Adam sound surprised.

“Yeah, unless someone was keeping a hell of big secret,” Danny confirms. 

Danny pauses. Steve meets his eyes, willing him on. It feels strange talking about something they’ve only every discussed between themselves. 

“I’ve never told anyone,” Danny continues, flashing him a faint smile, “apart from my family, Rachel, Grace, Charlie and all of you.”

“Not even in New Jersey? Didn’t you ever use your powers back then?”

Danny shrugs at Junior’s question. It’s casual but Steve knows better. Danny has regrets. Particularly about the death of his partner, Grace. And what happened to his brother, Matt. “New Jersey used to be a wilderness. Now it’s mostly concrete and brick. It…limits your powers.”

Steve nods slowly. The building of huge cities has contributed to the decline of people with powers. It’s not impossible to draw on the power of the earth, the ‘āina, through man-made structures: he does it all the time. But that takes skill and experience. The world is rapidly running out of known practitioners to pass on those skills.

He watches as his team absorb this news. They should have talked about this before, he thinks, as he watches them accept it without blinking. It’s not shame that’s stopped them from talking. It’s society and the rules put in place by the Guild. They’ve forgotten how to _share._

Fuck, he _hates_ the Guild.

“Babe?”

Danny’s watching him, part expectant, part worry. Danny’s hand is still warm on his thigh. Placing his own hand over it, he takes a deep breath. “I came into my powers when I was at boarding school.”

“After your Dad sent you away,” Danny adds, quietly.

“Yeah.” It had been one of the toughest periods of his life but he’d survived it. It set him on a path that brought him here today. To Danny. “I’m not sure where I inherited my powers from.” 

Danny snorts. 

Steve nudges Danny, making him rock in his chair. “Danny’s convinced my Mom’s a shadow shifter,” he explains.

“C’mon,” Danny jostles gently, with a ghost of a grin. “You can’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind.”

Steve rubs his eyes. He’s never discussed his powers with his Mom. And his Mom‘s never asked. It says something about their screwed up relationship, he thinks, they’ve never discussed something so fundamental about themselves.

Silence falls for a moment. It’s a respectful silence, he realises. They’re waiting for him to collect himself. Sitting up straight, he does that. “My Mom aside, there are a lot of people who know about my powers. Mary knows. It wasn’t a secret in the Navy. The Teams I worked in. Freddie. Joe.” The names catch in his throat. Danny’s not the only one with regrets.

“So the chances are it’s going to be someone who knows you,” Adam says slowly, processing the information. 

Steve concedes with a shrug. “Probably.” There is someone else though. Someone he’s only talked to Danny about. Someone he’d hoped he’d buried forever. “We need to talk about Wo Fat.” 

He throws Danny a grateful look when he shifts up against him, offering support. The rest of the team are staring at him with shocked expressions. “I think Wo Fat knew,” he explains, quietly. “When he captured me in North Korea and that dungeon here in Hawaii…” He swallows hard as the memories come back. “The drugs. The torture. I think…there were things he did which blocked my link with the ‘āina, with my powers.”

“Damn.”

He acknowledges Lou with a nod. “I think it’s worse than that…the plane crash in the jungle, I had to use my powers to get us out of there. I don’t know if he engineered that to happen or not but I think…I think he knew.”

Tani studies their faces in turn. “But he’s dead, right?”

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t tell someone else,” Danny cuts in. Puffing out his cheeks, he exhales loudly. “We think he saw me using my powers too. North Korea,” he explains, “Steve was in the truck, we had to stop it so I…um…sent them to sleep.”

“One minute I was in the back of the truck thinking it was all over,” Steve confirms, reaching out for Danny’s hand, “the next thing I know, Danny’s climbing in. I can’t remember anything in between.”

“Wo Fat got away before we could stop them,” Danny continues. “Pretty sure he would have seen it happen.”

Junior grins. “Or you put him to sleep.”

Danny grimaces. It’s another regret. “We didn’t catch him. That’s all that counts.”

Silence falls again. Steve shifts, struggling to stay still. His stomach is churning painfully. He thinks he’s doing a good job of hiding it until Tani stands up.

“Lets clear this and let these guys get some rest,” she suggests.

Everyone’s up and moving before either he or Danny can say anything. Slowly levering himself up, Steve goes to help them. Danny blocks his way. Placing his palm against his chest, Danny frowns.

“You look terrible, babe.”

“Tired,” he answers automatically.

Danny’s frown deepens. “You sure that’s all it is?”

Steve makes himself smile. Danny’s always worrying about his health. He hates that he has to. His eyes drift, coming to land on Danny’s discarded plate. “You okay? You didn’t eat much either.”

Danny’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Do I need to call someone?”

Steve does an internal check of his body. He shakes his head. Early in their relationship, they’d agreed he wouldn’t lie about _this._ He does feel like shit but he doubts it’s due to the transplant or the radiation poisoning.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Lou yells from the kitchen doorway. As hints go it’s super unsubtle. 

Sharing a wry grin, Steve and Danny head upstairs.

“We’ll lock up,” Junior adds, as they make it halfway up the stairs. “We’ll take Eddie back with us too.”

Steve waves his thanks but keeps on climbing. Now he’s stopped he’s running out of energy fast. Danny’s coming up the stairs behind him, his hand resting on the small of back. His touch is enough to get him up the stairs, in the bathroom, and into bed. _Just._

Shedding his clothes, he slips on a pair of sleep shorts and falls into bed. The sheets are cool against his skin. Sighing with relief, he closes his eyes.

He’s slipping into sleep as Danny climbs into bed. He shifts his arms, allowing Danny to spoon up behind him. Danny’s arm curves protectively around him, comes to rest against his ribs.

Letting out a long, tired, breath out, he falls asleep.

H50H50H50H50

Steve wakes up with a start. Cataloging his surroundings he soon figures out what is wrong. His stomach is cramping. Bile is rising up his throat. Danny’s still asleep behind him. Extricating himself carefully, he rolls out of bed.

He makes it to the downstairs bathroom just in time.

Once his stomach has emptied itself, he slides his ass across the floor until his back is against the wall. His heart rate has shot through the roof. Sweat is sliding down his spine, making him shiver as he curls his arms around his bent knees. _Breathe,_ he tells himself sternly. _You’ve had food poisoning before._

Despite giving himself a pep talk it’s still a while before he gets to his feet. Flushing the toilet, he rinses his mouth with water. Once he’s sure that won’t cause him to retch, he scoops several more handfuls of water into his mouth.

Using the sink and door frame for support, he heads into the living room. He’s almost to the stairs when a wave of dizziness catches him unawares. Flinging out an arm for balance, he finds the wall, leans into to it for support.

Gradually the room stills.

Resting his head against the wall, he closes his eyes. He’s only intending to stand there for a moment, while he gets up the energy to scale the stairs. Another idea creeps its way into his brain.

Stepping gingerly, he switches off the house alarm and heads for the back yard. It’s pitch black, he’s traversing the ground from memory. Still he manages to stub his toe, making him curse. But finally he can feel the grass tickling between his toes, cool and soothing.

The ‘āina doesn’t have magical healing powers. And to access it he has to use energy he doesn’t have right now. But sometimes just sitting, with his palms against the earth, is enough to help him feel better. In the weeks after his transplant, he’d spent hours lying out here, letting the sun, sea and earth do their work.

Lowering himself to the ground, he pushes his palms against the grass. Closing his eyes, he breathes deeply.

Nothing happens.

Eyes still closed, he frowns. _Relax,_ he tells himself sternly. 

Still, there’s nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. There’s a hum, barely there. It’s a tiny fraction of what he can normally feel. Rolling on his side, he opens his eyes, trying to understand what he’s feeling.

The sudden movement is a gigantic error. Bile rises in his throat, unstoppable. Wave after wave, he can’t stop vomiting. Even when there’s nothing left, his stomach’s still cramping. Groaning, he draws his knees up to his belly.

He’s not sure how long it is before there’s movement in the house. Stifling another groan, he tries to get up. Sweating and weak, he has to give up, flopping back down onto the grass again. Wincing, he watches lights coming on in the house.

Steve likes to think he’s not an overly-emotional man. And it’s not like he’s not used to dealing with pain. But seeing Danny running out of the house, it makes his eyes tear up. _Idiot,_ he berates himself, silently. _It’s just food poisoning…_

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Steve’s had plenty of experience of hospitals over the years. So even though his mind is swimming with confusing memories of Danny’s panicked voice and Lou and Junior’s worried faces, there’s part of him that’s already resigned to the fact that whatever the hell’s going on, he’s ended up in an Emergency Room.

Opening his eyes, he confirms he’s not wrong. Bright light stabs at his eyes like needles. Closing them, he groans. 

“Steve?”

Bracing himself, he half-opens his eyes. Everything’s blurry. Someone’s inside his head swinging a sledgehammer. His insides feel like they’ve been scooped out with a spoon. Slowly. “’anny?” His tongue feels swollen and his throat is sore. Licking his lips doesn’t help either: his mouth is as dry as a dessert. “What ‘appened?”

“You got sick, babe. Do you remember?”

Danny’s gradually coming into focus but not fast enough. Moving his hand takes a ridiculous amount of effort and something tugs at the skin on his arm (IV lines he notes vaguely) but he’s rewarded: a warm, familiar hand wraps around his.

“‘ospital?”

“Kings,” Danny confirms, squeezing his hand. “We’re still in the Emergency Room. They’re gonna move us soon.”

Steve nods, aborts the move immediately. His eyes are drifting closed again – damn, he’s tired – when what Danny’s said registers. Adrenaline shoots through his veins. Opening his eyes again, he ignores the pain that follows. Forcing his eyes to work, the room gradually comes into focus. He’s lying on a bed, in a curtained cubicle. Danny’s in a seat next to his bed. He’s wearing scrubs that swamp him. Under the bright lights, he looks sickly pale, with dark shadows under his eyes. Worse, he’s got an IV line in one arm that leads to a bag of identified clear liquid hanging on a metal pole. “ _’anny—_ “

“Sssh. I’m good. Okay, not as bad as you,” Danny corrects, grimacing. “I started getting sick on the way here, in the ambulance. They gave me shot and some fluids. It’s been twenty minutes since I threw up. Not sure I’m gonna make it to twenty-five. How do you feel?”

Steve opens his mouth to respond but his stomach gets there first. As if it knows it’s being talked about, it cramps painfully. Shifting to relieve the pain sets off a wave of vertigo. The result is inevitable.

“I got you, I got you,” Danny’s murmurs, brushing the hair off his forehead as his stomach empties itself into a basin that’s helpfully been put by his bed. He has a vague memory of Danny kneeling on the grass in the back yard, doing the same. Then everything in his world reduces down to the pain in his stomach and the bile in his throat and time blurs.

H50H50H50

“I think our boy’s waking up.”

Floating towards consciousness, Steve latches onto the familiar voice. He has more vague memories now, to add to his earlier ones. Hushed, urgent voices around his bed. The sound of someone – Danny? – being sick close by. Movement. More lights. Vertigo. More hushed voices. The warmth of drugs entering his system. Blessed relief.

He forces his mouth to work. “Dr’gged me?”

“I know you hate being knocked out but they were out of options.”

It’s Danny. For Danny he’ll risk the side effects of being conscious. His eyelids feel like they’ve got lead weights attached. Getting them open, he notices with relief that the room he’s in now has dimmed lighting. There’s less noise too: instantly his headache thanks him by reducing to a dull roar. Moving his head carefully, he locates his target. Danny’s sitting up in the bed next to him. Scrubs have been swapped for a patient’s gown. He looks drawn and sickly pale.

“Had us worried there, Steve. Thought you were never gonna wake up.”

It’s Lou’s voice. Another cautious movement of his head and he finds Lou, sitting on a chair between the ends of their bed. His eyes widen in surprise: Lou’s wearing a surgeon’s gown, face mask, gloves and cap.

“I’m gonna do the talking,” Lou instructs, before he can say anything. Getting up from his chair, he retrieves a plastic cup from a table and offers it to him. “Here you go. It’ll help.” 

“Take small sips.” Danny sounds like he’s talking from experience.

Steve considers declining, not convinced his stomach’s received that memo. It’s only because Danny’s watching him, brow creased in a worried frown that he does as he’s told. Lou’s right. It does help – it’s cool and just what his abused throat needs – and regretfully he’s shakes his head after a couple of sips.

Sinking back into his pillows, he watches Lou sit back down. Dressed in the medical equipment he looks bigger than ever. In another situation, he thinks, he’d be making fun of Lou. “Gues…not food poisoning?”

“Nope.” Lou shares a look with Danny that sends off warning bells in Steve’s head. “That’s about the only thing they’ve decided it isn’t.”

“We’ve suffering the same symptoms as Ocean Kahui’s wife,” Danny explains quietly. “Lou saw him earlier. Mai, that’s his wife, she’s still not doing so good.” He looks away, rubs his hand across his mouth. “They…um…they can’t figure out why you and Mai have got it worse than the rest of us.”

Steve’s brain stirs, trying to latch onto something. “’The rest of us’?”

“Fifteen similar cases admitted to hospitals in the last twenty-four hours,” Lou explains. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he moves into Steve’s eye-line. “They’re all related in some way to the men in the warehouse.”

 _Shit._ His brain stirs again, pulling out another memory. “Danny…the first house we visited…” He trails off, unable to string the words together. 

“The sick Auntie,” Danny finishes for him. Sadness crosses his face. “She died, babe. Yesterday.”

Dread pools in the pit of his stomach. Nausea threatens again. He closes his eyes, determined to breathe through it. “Why…” He takes a shaky breathe. “Lou…why they got you…”

“Why they got me dressed up like Doctor Kildare?” The chair creaks as Lou leans forward again. “They dressed me up when—“

Steve opens his eyes, his dread growing. He can’t remember Lou sounding this nervous, unless it’s something involving one of his children.

“--It’s out on social media,” Danny cuts in, anger simmering in his voice. “Someone’s started a rumour that there’s a virus going round, carried by people with powers.” He stops, takes a breath. “We’re in quarantine. Lou’s only allowed in here because the Governor insisted she needed our input for the case.”

Steve’s brain goes into a tailspin. A lot seems to have happened in a short time. “How long...I mean…”

Danny’s expression turns sympathetic. “It’s Tuesday afternoon.”

Steve shuts his eyes as his brain struggles with the math. They’ve been in here twelve, maybe thirteen hours. Time wasted when they could have been solving this case. The man they identified on the CCTV could be long gone and with him any chance of finding out what’s wrong with them. With _Danny._ He tries to push himself out of his pillows. “I gotta get out of here.”

“Not happening.” Danny throws back his sheets. Awkwardly he swings his legs over the side of the bed. “If I have to sing you to sleep to keep you in that bed I will,” he threatens, pausing in his rant long enough for Lou to give up his chair for him. He waits for Lou to push it up next to Steve’s bed, then sits heavily. “Sharpie pens, Steve. You remember the pens?” 

Steve rolls his head, to stare at the opposite wall. Teeth gritted, he fights another wave of vertigo. He appreciates Danny’s attempt to lighten the mood but the last time he felt this ill had been after the transplant. At least then he’d understood the reason, had a prognosis for the future, knew what he had to do. 

Turning back, feeling like a failure, he looks up at Lou instead of across at Danny. “The team, they okay?”

Lou raises his eyebrows at Danny. “Sharpie pens?” Getting nothing but an enigmatic smile in reply, he shakes his head. “The Governor’s brought CDC in on this. Noelani’s sitting in on the briefings with the hospital staff. Junior and Tani are working with Duke to track down the rest of the families who might be affected.” He pauses, shares another look with Danny. “Adam called just before you woke up. One of his Yakuza contacts thinks they might have a lead on our perp from the school. Thinks he hired a van from some guy on the North Shore.”

“He can’t go on his own—“

“—agreed, which is why Danny and I decided I’m going with him,” Lou finishes for him, sounding like he’s calming a scared animal. He studies each of them in turn. “I’m gonna let you get some rest before those doctors come back and start poking you with things again. “Rest,” he repeats, looking Steve in the eye. “You know what that is, right?”

“It’s not like I have a choice.” Steve knows he sounds like a petulant child but it’s how he feels. Glancing away, he accidentally catches Danny’s eye. Danny who looks sick as a dog but is sitting in the chair because he’s worried about him and needs the close contact. Sighing, he apologises, in his own way: “This sucks.”

As Lou leaves, Danny rests his elbows on the edge of the bed, takes Steve’s hand. Raising it to his lips, he kisses his knuckles. “I know.” He rests there for a moment. “You scared the hell out me, babe.”

“Scared the hell out of me too.” The whispered words have slipped out but they’re true. There’s another memory that’s been trying to get his attention since he woke up. Staring at the ceiling, he tries to get it straight in his head. “Out in the yard…there was something…I tried to tap into the ‘āina and…” He trails off. The rest of the memory is a blur.

Danny tightens his grip. “You couldn’t feel the power of the ‘āina?”

Steve swallows as his stomach plummets. “I wasn’t imagining it?”

“No.” Danny glances over at the closed door, like he’s expecting someone to be standing there listening. “I tried too. I mean it was there but it was like…” He waves his free hand in frustration. “It was like listening to music underwater.”

Steve’s not sure he’s ever listened to music underwater. But his exhausted brain seems to like the analogy. He nods. His stomach roils, reminding him that any movement is not a good idea. He can feel the blood draining from his face.

“Sharpie pens, Steven,” Danny whispers, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Rest. Or when you wake up you’re gonna have eyebrows that Kim Khardashian will be jealous of.”

“Who?” He’s much too tired to care about this conversation but Danny’s loosening his grip and he doesn’t want to let him go.

“Later.” Danny’s voice is warm. Soothing. “Go to sleep.”

His body leaves him with no choice: he passes out.

H50H50H50

“Steve? Can you open your eyes for me?”

Steve struggles up to consciousness. A nightmare is lingering, threatening to drag him back down. “Freddie…he was here…”

“I know, babe.”

Danny’s voice is heavy with sadness. It nudges his brain, tells him to open his eyes. Everything’s blurred, worse than before. Danny’s a shadowy blob, sitting in the chair beside him. Squinting, he struggles to focus. There’s a reason Danny looks like a blob: he’s wrapped in a blanket. “’kay?”

“I’m okay,” Danny replies. “You’re running a temperature though.” He shifts, a hand poking out of the blanket to rest on Steve’s forehead. “The doctor’s here. He needs to talk to you.”

Steve nods, or at least he thinks he does. Everything’s detached. Unreal. Everything except the touch of Danny’s hand on his skin. Moving his head, the rest of the room swims into view. They’re not alone: someone’s standing at the end of his bed. 

The blue clad blob takes a step forward. It rustles as it moves. “I’m Doctor Mayer. I’ve been looking after you and Danny.”

 _Thanks_ he goes to say, but his mouth won’t co-operate.

“They’ve been running tests,” Danny explains. “They think Mai is sicker because she’s just had the baby. Something about the changes in her body.” The doctor says something, aborts his attempt as Danny carries on talking. “They’re worried…they’re worried that your anti-rejection meds are why you’re sicker than the rest of us.” 

Danny leans forward. Now Steve can feel his warm breath on his ear. Danny’s breathing fast. Worry stirs deep in his mind. “Meds?”

“They want to withdraw them.” Danny stops. His breathing is harsher now. “They need your permission.”

_No. It’s not just his liver. It’s Danny’s too._

“I know. I know. That’s what I told them,” Danny reassures him, even though he hasn’t said anything. There’s a pause. A shaky puff of breath tickles his ear. “We got a break in the case. It’s a long shot, I can’t explain it all right now but…do you trust me, babe?”

It’s a whisper. Barely there. But Steve hears it loud and clear. He nods. Once.

“Hang in there,” Danny breathes, then he’s gone, out of view.

Turning his head, Steve tries to follow him. Everything swims out of focus. The familiar taste of nausea is back again. Everything blurs. Vaguely he’s aware that Danny’s talking again. 

“I’m leaving and I’m taking Steve and Mai with me.”

The words strike Steve’s brain, confuse it, making it rattle. He groans, fighting again the overload of sensation.

“Shhh.” Danny’s back again, stroking his forehead. “I got this, okay?”

“’kay’.”

The doctor doesn’t seem to agree. There is a lot of rustling. “You’re in quarantine. You can’t go.”

Danny snorts. It’s an angry sound. “I’m the Angel of Death. I can do anything I want.”

Steve shakes his head. That’s wrong. _So_ wrong. “’igglypuff.”

There’s more rustling from the end of the bed. “He’s delirious. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. I can’t let him leave and—”

Danny snorts again. Louder this time. “We’re leaving, whether you want us to or not.”

“He’s not fit to travel. I’m not sure he’ll make it.”

“You think? You’ve seen how fast he’s deteriorated in the last few hours. The only thing I’m sure about right now is that he’s not going to make it if he stays here.”

“I’ll need to speak to the Governor and check—“

“She knows what we’re doing. I’ll give you her number.”

“There’s paperwork to sign—“

“I’ve got a pen.”

“This is outrageous.”

“That I’ve got a pen or that you’re still standing here?”

There’s a heavy silence. Huffing. More rustling. A door opens and slams shut.

“Babe?”

Danny’s stroking his forehead again. It feels so nice. “Mmm?”

“I’m sorry but we’re gonna have to move you.”

He rolls his head back. Danny’s face is just inches from his. Blue eyes are looking straight into his. “G’orgeous.”

There’s a chuckle. Warm. Amused. “Love you too.” 

Lips touch his forehead. That feels even better. Mind drifting, he rolls his head towards Danny. Breathes in Danny’s unique scent. Time blurs again. Familiar voices meld with Danny’s. Lou. Tani. Junior. Bright overhead lights rush by, making him feel dizzy. More voices. Sunlight. Then a noise that triggers interest deep inside his brain:

The sound of a chopper.

“Wh’ere we going?” Twisting his shoulders to understand his surroundings reveals his arms and legs are restrained. Instincts override the confusion in his mind. Panic kicks in. “Danny…”

Tani looms into view. Her eyes are huge, dark pools of worry as she leans over him. “Sssh, sssh, you’re okay. We’ve got this, boss.”

“Can’t move…”

“Blankets. You’re running a fever. Danny’s here. See?”

Steve follows her gaze. Blinking hard, shapes come into focus. A few feet away Danny is half-walking, half being carried by Junior and Adam. Surrounding them are people dressed in camo fatigues, carrying his stretcher. His panic eases as he’s lifted up and his view of the sky is replaced by the inside of the helicopter. Navy. The people with them are Navy. _Safe,_ he tells himself silently, _you’re safe._

It doesn’t stop him from searching Danny out as more people in uniform appear in his vision. There’s another flash of panic and then he spots him. Danny’s sitting to one side, propped between Junior and Adam. Wrapped in blankets, only his quiff of hair is showing. 

He’s not moving.

“He’s asleep. Arguing with the doctors, it tuckered him out.” Tani’s back in his line of sight, her brow furrowed with worry. “Junes has got him.”

 _Junes._ It’s enough to reassure him that Danny’s safe but there’s still part of his mind that wants answers. Arching his neck, he tries to take in his surroundings. Everything blurs in and out of focus but he catches a glimpse of another stretcher next to his, with more people huddled over it. Moving invokes a wave of nausea. It’s doubled as the chopper lifts off. His head spins as his mind tries to compensate for the confusing signals. Groaning, he closes his eyes.

“I need help over here.”

There’s frantic movement around him and muted voices. Mostly all he can hear is the sound of the chopper’s engines. The acrid smell of aviation fuel is sticking in the back of his throat, making it hard to swallow. When a hand wraps around his, he grips it. It’s smaller than Danny’s, more delicate, but it’s welcome none the less.

Time blurs again.

A jolt drags him back to the present. He’s being lifted again and it’s enough to start another wave of nausea. Eyes closed, he fights the urge to vomit. There’re more people, more movement around him. But something else cuts through all of it, grabbing his attention.

Warm droplets of rain are hitting his face. Licking his lips, he tastes them. There’s a sound, a constant pitter patter, of rain hitting vegetation. The smell registers in his mind too. It’s wet mouldy earth, a smell he instantly recognises. 

They’re out in the jungle.

Deep inside him, something sparks back into life.

The stretcher lurches, taking him with it. His mind tumbles again but this time he focuses on the sounds around him: birds singing, the whisper of the wind brushing through the trees, someone cursing as their boots squelch through the mud. 

He floats, cocooned by the familiar sounds. Snippets of memories surface in his fevered mind. Freddie would love this, his thinks vaguely. Up to his neck in mud and mosquitoes, jungles had always been Freddie’s idea of a good night out.

“Who’s Freddie?”

Opening his eyes is almost too much effort. Answering Tani’s question definitely is.

He doesn’t need to. Adam explains for him: “His friend. Killed on active duty. Steve had to leave him behind.”

“Jesus.” 

Steve opens his eyes: the pain in Tani’s voice leaves him with no choice. He takes a breath - to tell her it’s okay, that it doesn’t hurt quite so much anymore, not now that he’s got Danny – when she squeezes his hand, stopping him.

“Rest. We’re nearly there.”

 _Nearly where?_ he wants to ask but everything is going out of focus again. Giving in, he closes his eyes and relaxes back into the sounds of the jungle.

H50H50H50

“Steve? Babe?”

 _Danny._ Steve’s mind automatically chases the sound of Danny’s voice, rudely dragging him out of sleep. Awareness rushes in, reminding him that every bone in his body is aching. That, generally speaking, he feels like shit.

The noise of the rain is much louder, like it’s striking a tin roof. Opening his eyes, Steve realises that’s exactly what it’s doing. There’s a strong smell of damp wood too. Shifting to ease the aching pain, he discovers he’s still on the stretcher, buried under blankets. From the small amount he can see, he’s lying on the floor inside a wood cabin. It’s dark, the gloom barely broken up by several camping lamps on the floor.

Danny’s sitting on a stretcher beside him, a blanket draped over his shoulders. He smiles as their eyes meet. He looks drained. Exhausted. Skin that always looks pale is a sickly shade of grey. 

“I need you to drink this,” Danny says softly, lifting a glass that looks like it’s got water in it.

It’s takes a frightening amount of effort to make his mouth work. “You look…bad.”

Danny’s smile slips. “You’re not looking so hot yourself.”

“Th’nks.”

“Hey. Don’t go back to sleep. You gotta drink this.”

“W’at is it?”

Danny’s hand slips under his neck, supporting him as he takes a sip. “We’ve been poisoned. This will help.”

He coughs up the first sip. It’s not just the shock that they’ve been poisoned. Whatever is in the glass tastes like dirty socks. 

Danny reads his mind. “I know it tastes awful but you’ve got to try.”

 _Doubt that,_ Steve thinks but there’s a note of desperation in Danny’s voice that makes him give it a go anyway. The second gulp makes him gag but it stays down. Just. Breathing through his nose, he takes another mouthful.

“Slowly…slowly…. You’ll make yourself sick.”

Danny’s right. His stomach is rolling. Desperate to keep down whatever it is he’s drinking, he paces himself. By the time the glass is empty he’s panting with the effort not to throw up. As Danny gently lowers him back down he clamps his lips together, unable to stifle a groan.

“I know,” Danny soothes, pulling the blankets back up to his chin. Turning away, he looks over his shoulder. “Okay, so we’ve all drunk it. What happens now?”

A man appears out of the shadows. In his early seventies, with closely cropped grey hair and weathered, tanned skin, he looks like a native Hawaiian. Wearing a long cotton white shirt, knee-length denim cut-offs and slippahs, he wouldn’t look out of place on a beach. Not much taller than Danny, he squats down between their stretchers. 

Reaching out, he presses his hand against Danny’s forehead, checking his temperature. “Now you sleep. I’ll wake you in a few hours for another dose.” Nodding to himself, he shuffles a few steps to reach Steve. 

Steve shivers as the man’s hand makes contact with his skin. It feels cold. “Who ‘re you?”

The man smiles. It’s a warm smile. The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkles. One blue eye, one brown, Steve notes, inexplicably drawn into them. “I’m Mālama.

Mālama. In Hawaiian it means to protect something. A vague memory surfaces. A myth about a long forgotten people: Stewards who protected the earth, watched over those with powers and honored their secrets, sharing them only with future generations.

 _They’re just a myth,_ Steve’s mind chides, as his eyes drift closed. He fights sleep for a moment, desperate to find out more. Something’s drawing him down though. Down to the earth. To the ‘āina. 

To _home._

He sleeps.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Steve had always considered himself a good swimmer. Even as a kid he’d managed to out-swim his friends. Training with the Navy SEALs had changed that. Suddenly he’d been surrounded by men as good as him. All of them wanted to win. When it came to swimming, no one wanted to win more than Freddie Hart.

Freddie would make everything a competition. “Keep up old man,” he’d yell as he cut through the water, smooth as a man-eating shark.

Steve would dig deeper. Muscles screaming for oxygen, he’d pull up alongside Freddie, creep ahead. Only five months separated them in age but his pride was never going to let anyone call him _old._

Not even Freddie.

During the long cold nights in the Afghan mountains, he’d told Freddie about Hawaii. How the deep blue sea shimmered in the sunlight, the way the shades of blue changed so rapidly. They’d talked about spending some leave together. Maybe rent a cabin out on the North Shore. They’d swim and surf until the sun went down. Then they’d eat shrimp and drink Longboards, sitting on the beach. Back at the cabin they’d do things the Navy didn’t want them to do, enjoying each other’s bodies long into the night. 

It was an illicit dream. A secret. Deep down, they both knew it would probably never happen.

But right now, he’s living that dream. Cutting through the waves doing a front crawl, the water’s soft and warm. It’s so clear he can see tiny fish swimming underneath him. This, he’s certain, is Hawaii. 

Turning his head on the stroke he sees Freddie. He’s a few feet to his left. Head down, he’s powering through the water. His well-built shoulder muscles break the surface, glistening in the sun. His head comes up, his hair dripping in his face. The smug bastard takes a second to grin at him – a huge grin from ear to ear – then he’s plunging back under the water, at one with it like an actual seal.

Kicking hard, Steve speeds up to overtake him. They’re neck and neck when he gets his first glimpse of land. Zeroing in, drawing on his last reserves of energy, he starts to pull ahead.

Focused as he is on beating Freddie, he doesn’t notice where they’re heading. When he does register their destination, he mis-times a stroke. It’s not the North Shore of his dreams they’re heading for: it’s the beach behind his house.

The lack of concentration means Freddie is winning – he can see him grinning back at him as he breaks the surface for air. But there’s no way he can catch him because something else has caught his attention: Danny and his Dad are on the beach.

Instinct keeps him swimming but his mind is all over the place. One of his biggest regrets is that his Dad never met Danny. That Danny never met Freddie either. His chest constricts, a mixture of grief and excitement. And then three more figures walk out of the house and he forgets to breathe.

Matt’s there with Grace and Charlie. His Dad is waving them over, greeting them like old friends. Matt slings his arm over Danny’s shoulder and everybody’s grinning at something Matt’s just said.

“Keep up, old man.”

Steve swings his attention back to Freddie: he’s treading water, waiting for him to catch up. Suddenly overcome with a wave of sadness he pulls up beside Freddie and kisses him. Lingering and soft. Freddie tastes of salt as he returns the kiss with passion.

With regret, Steve pulls away from him. What he’d had with Freddie had been what he’d needed – what they both needed – back them. What he has with Danny is what he’s been searching for all his life.

As he treads water Freddie disappears back under the surface. Scanning the sea, he sees a Monk Seal pop up in the water, watching him with huge, dark liquid eyes. With a nod to it, his heart heavy with regret, he turns and swims towards land.

Slowing his strokes, he floats, his attention on the beach. His Dad, Matt, Grace and Charlie are building sandcastles. Danny’s sitting to one side, crossed legged, wearing nothing but his swim trunks. He’s staring intently at the sea. At _him._

Heart lifting, Steve starts swimming, slow at first, then speeding up. Danny stands as he gets closer, uses his hand to shade his eyes. A smile grows on his face as he watches. Glancing over at Matt his gaze lingers, before he walks down to the water.

Steve discovers his legs are shaky as his feet sink into the sand. Stumbling, he tries to right to himself as the sea threatens to pull him down. Danny’s there first, strong hands grabbing his biceps to steady him. Then they’re chest to chest and kissing and he’s closing his eyes, curving into it gratefully. _This_ is home, where he’s meant to be.

Danny kisses him gently, a stark contrast to Freddie. Where Freddie was competitive, Danny is quietly confident. It’s not always been that way. But as their relationship develops, they’re both learning the meaning of absolute trust.

Sighing, he pulls away. He could spend all day like this with Danny. Looking around through, he realises his Dad, Matt, Grace and Charlie are gone. There’s a sense of loss lurking in his heart which he always feels when he thinks of his Dad. It stirs now. 

Grabbing Danny’s hand, he tugs him back in for another kiss. Closing his eyes, he slides his palms down over Danny’s ass, squeezing gently. Danny hums his appreciation, deepens the kiss.

 _This_ is real, Steve’s mind reminds him. The rest of it is just a dream. Every time he sleeps his Dad and Freddie (and Matt) will be waiting for him, if he wants them to be. Not all memories have to be bad.

He knows it’s true but he still lingers in the dream a while longer before opening his eyes.

Instantly he knows he’s back in reality. It’s almost dark, apart from a soft glow of light off to his right somewhere. The air is heavy and humid. Rain is still hitting the roof. A strong smell of damp wood and pulmeria flowers fill his nostrils. Lifting his hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes reveals he’s still on a stretcher, buried under a stack blankets. Also, although he feels as weak as a new born kitten and his stomach hurts like hell, the confusion caused by the fever has lifted.

Cautiously he turns his head to investigate his surroundings. A grin blooms on his face. His heart speeds up with excitement: Danny’s lying on a stretcher beside him, watching him. He still looks drawn and tired but it’s _Danny_ and the relief at seeing him is enormous.

“I was dreaming about you.” The words have slipped out without thought. Before he can stutter out an explanation, Danny smiles faintly back. 

“So was I. Dreaming about you, I mean.” Danny falls silent. “Matt was there.”

Steve blinks as surprise jolts through him. “With my Dad, Grace and Charlie.”

“On the beach behind the house?” Danny narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“Building sandcastles.” Steve shakes his head. This can’t be happening. “I was swimming with—”

“—Freddie. I saw you.”

Steve looks around, peering into the darkness. “Where _are_ we?”

“You’re in my house.”

A man has stepped out of the shadows, into the soft light. Steve’s mind supplies a flash of a fevered memory for him. This is Mālama. “You’re the Steward.”

The Stewards – the protectors – are a myth. Steve’s expecting Mālama to deny it. When Mālama nods, Steve’s mind rears back in surprise. It’s a lot to take in.

“Mamo told us where to find him.” There’s a note of doubt in Danny’s voice that suggests he’s struggling to accept it too. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t believe him but…but we were running out of options.”

Steve’s mind offers another blurred memory. Danny arguing with the doctor. The desperation in Danny’s voice, barely hidden. Pulling his other arm free takes several attempts but finally he manages to reach out, to touch Danny. 

_Thank you,_ he opens his mouth to say. He freezes. Warmth is creeping up from his hand, along his arm. Danny’s eyes have widened with surprise too. It’s power from the ‘āina. They recognise it but it’s never felt like _that_. They both stare accusingly at the only person in the room who might have answers.

“We’re on the heart of the island,” Mālama replies, conversationally. Smiling, he offers the glasses of water he’s holding. “It’s time for your next dose.”

Steve takes the glass automatically. He doesn’t drink from it. If Danny’s right he owes this guy his life but that doesn’t mean he gets a free pass. “You didn’t answer my question. Where are we?”

Mālama sits on the floor between their stretchers. Crossing his legs, body language relaxed, it’s clear he’s not troubled by their presence. Or their questions. “We’re in the Ko’olau Mountains, above the Kualoa Valley.”

Steve frowns, trying to place it. “The ancient home of the Hawai’ian chiefs. There’s nothing up there but jungle.”

Mālama spreads his arms, to encompass the wooden cabin they’re in, proving otherwise.

“Dad and I hiked through that valley when I was a kid,” Steve remembers out loud. “He said…he said we couldn’t go up in the mountains because they’re protected by the Hawaiian gods.” As a kid he’d taken the threat seriously. As an adult, he still had enough respect for the old beliefs to know not to mess with them.

Mālama laughs. It’s a rich, warm sound. “I’m definitely not a god. I’m just an old guy who knows things.”

“Right.” With his mind still dealing with the fact his Dad had bought him up here, Steve takes a sip from the glass. It hits the back of his tongue, makes him cough. Face scrunched, he sniffs it warily. “What’s in this?”

“He won’t tell me.” Danny raises his own empty glass. “Down in one. Only way to do it. Trust me.”

Steve opens his mouth to argue but another memory floats back: Danny gently encouraging him to drink several times during the night. He’d sounded desperate then too. Tipping back his head, he throws it back in one. Clamping his jaw shut, he swallows. The expected wave of nausea doesn’t materialise. His stomach’s still not happy – it roils as the water hits – but he’s definitely had worse and survived. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding his thanks to Mālama as he settles back on his pillows, “can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Danny’s hands his glass back. Stacking up his pillows, he settles back too. “Not sure how much you can remember, babe. Let’s see… So, our suspect Bob, he hired the van on the North Shore. You remember that?”

Steve frowns. Everything’s blurred but he thought he’d remembered some of it. Apparently not. “Who’s _Bob_?”

“The guy who recruited the men at the warehouse. He told those kids to vandalise my car. Gun for hire, multiple aliases, mostly in Asia.” Danny peels the facts off, obviously expecting him to know what he’s talking about. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Forgot. Tani started called him Bob because no one could decide which alias to use. So you know…um…it kinda stuck.”

“ _Bob?”_

Danny bobs his head. “It’s easier to remember.”

Steve considers that. “Continue.”

“So anyway, Bob hires this van. Three weeks ago.”

“That’s two weeks before they kidnapped you.” Steve frowns. “Why so long?”

Danny looks like a magician about to pull a rabbit out of a hat. “Two of Bob’s buddies pretended to be working for The Hawaiian Water Company.”

“What?”

“When HPD checked back at the houses of the men who had been at the warehouse, the van turned up on CCTV.”

“I don’t get it,” Steve starts. But then Mālama gestures at the empty glass he’s holding and the pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place. “They put something in the _water?”_ He raises his eyebrows at Mālama. “Do you know what is it?”

Mālama’s expression remains annoyingly enigmatic. “I know what it is.”

“Let me guess. You’re not going to tell us.” Biting his lip, Steve tries to rein back his growing frustration. 

“My job is to protect the secrets of people with powers.” Mālama’s tone is soft but unapologetic. “All I can say is there are a combination of plants native to Hawaii that when ingested in water attack the nervous system. Balance, digestion, sight, smell. Everything.” 

“But it only affects people with powers?”

“Apparently.”

“The plants were put in the water pipes,” Danny adds. “You drink the water, you ingest the poison.”

“That’s it? Plants? You drink water, you get sick?”

Danny shrugs. “How much water do you drink every day?”

 _A lot. A hell of a lot. Danny too._ “Is that why not everyone got as sick? They don’t drink as much?”

For the first time Mālama’s calm expression slips. “I’m not sure. The records we have, they’re hundreds of years old. Life has changed a lot since then.”

“So we don’t know if my meds made it worse.” Steve looks away, not expecting an answer. It’s disappointing, not knowing. It makes him vulnerable. He’s not comfortable with that. “I’m guessing the Guild can’t help either?”

“Can’t help or won’t help?” Danny snorts. “Archer’s replacement is on the island but you wouldn’t know it.”

Steve grits his teeth. His frustration is threatening to spill out. “I thought the ‘āina was supposed to help us, to protect us?”

Mālama studies him for a moment. “You feel betrayed.” He raises his hand as they both go to protest. “I understand. It’s difficult to accept but it is the nature of things. The ‘āina she gives but she also takes away.”

Steve shakes his head. The headache he thought was gone is creeping back again. “I don’t understand—”

“Was the dream we shared the ‘āina giving us something?”

Steve looks over at Danny in surprise. Danny’s always been cynical about things he can’t see. About the mythical and the religious. He sounds deadly serious now.

“Perhaps.”

Steve huffs, annoyed with Mālama’s tone. They’re here because someone poisoned them. They’ve been targeted by someone with very specific knowledge. As grateful as he is, there is a question that needs to be asked. “How do we know you’re not working with…Bob, huh? Or whoever Bob is working for.”

Danny scowls at him. “He grew up with Mamo. They went to school together.”

Danny’s giving him a look though that suggests it’s time to get his head out of his ass. It’s also a reminder that without Danny fighting in his corner he wouldn’t be here at all. He squeezes Danny’s arm, a silent apology. “So, what else have we got?”

Danny’s answering sigh doesn’t fill him with confidence. “Lou and Adam are still working through Bob’s aliases, trying to figure out who he knows and why he’s here.”

Steve closes his eyes, defeat washing over him. “And Tani and Junior?”

“They’re at the bottom of this mountain. They’ve set up camp with some of your SEAL buddies,” Danny explains as he opens his eyes in surprise. Danny points at something he hadn’t noticed before: there’s a satellite phone on a table by the front door. “The Governor wouldn’t let us come up here without an armed guard.”

Steve nods in understanding. “Someone out there wants people with powers dead.”

“And then there are the lunatics on Twitter who think we’re carrying the plague.” Danny rolls his eyes. “Take your pick. Either way, the Governor didn’t want us up here unprotected.”

“ _Shit.”_

“Yup. That about sums it up, babe.”

Steve rubs his palms over his face, pressing them against his eyes. Feeling better is relative. Not throwing up every five minutes is a welcome improvement. Keeping his eyes open is still a struggle. The only thing that probably is keeping him awake, he realises, is the energy from the ‘āina. It’s like a low level hum on the periphery of his awareness, like there’s another person in the room. Involuntarily his eyes flick around the room, looking for them.

Danny’s fingers curl gently around his wrist, pulling his hands from his face. “You can feel it too, huh?” The hint of wonder is back in his tone. “I can’t decide if it’s comforting or creepy.”

Mālama stirs. Rolling his shoulders, he uncrosses his legs. His wince as he wiggles his toes to restore circulation suggests he is definitely human after you. “Don’t worry. The ‘āina, she likes you.”

Steve wants to challenge him on his proclamation. Not because Mālama’s enigmatic demeanor is maddening (which it still is) but because the scientist in him wants to understand everything. Sadly, he’s got a more pressing problem to solve. “I need the bathroom.”

As Mālama gets to his feet, Steve tries not to feel jealous of his sprightliness. Getting his own feet under him is an enormous effort, made harder as the room spins. As he throws his arm out to right himself Mālama slides smoothly under it, taking his weight.

The old man really is much stronger than he looks.

Steve takes a breath, allows his body to adjust to being upright. His bare feet register the rough wooden floor. Someone’s dressed him in a tee-shirt and jogging pants he realises. The fact that he can’t remember any of that brings a sense of uneasiness.

“Just need to get my sea legs,” he jokes, trying reassure himself as much as Danny, who’s thrown his blankets back and is half way off his stretcher. Danny’s worried frown doesn’t shift so he sticks his tongue out at him instead.

“Idiot,” Danny mutters. His frown eases slightly but he still follows their progress with a laser stare.

Mālama leads Steve through a door, revealing a lanai with a wooden balustrade, with two more doors leading off. Grabbing hold of the wooden railing for balance, Steve lets Mālama guide him. It’s a tight fit for both of them lurching side by side.

“He cares very much about you.”

Steve scowls. The statement might be innocent – and correct – but like everything to do with Danny it’s triggered his protective instincts. He tries to see Mālama’s expression but now there’re outside it’s dark, with just a few stars littering the sky. Giving up, he tries to read his tone of voice instead. “Did the ‘āina tell you that?”

Mālama chuckles. “No. My eyes and ears told me.” This time there’s no mistaking the chiding tone in his voice.

Steve dips his head in apology. “Danny says I have control issues. He’s right. These last few days…” He trails off, trying to get his thoughts straight. “I know you helped me and I’m grateful but I can’t trust you. Everything I thought I knew about my powers, I’m doubting it. Whoever is doing this, they took Danny. They came into our house and they took him and there was nothing I could do about it. You understand?”

Mālama stops, bringing them both to a halt. “I have an ohana too.” He points out into the darkness, into the jungle. “Do you see that light at the bottom of the mountain? That’s the compound where they live.”

Steve peers into the darkness. It’s difficult to see anything: the rain’s stopped to be replaced by a heavy mist that feels damp on his skin. But after a few moments far off in the distance he makes out house lights and cars moving. Civilisation. “So why do you live up here?”

“I have 18 grandchildren. They are my heart, a gift from the ‘āina. But I also love peace and quiet.” Mālama nudges his elbow, indicating they should walk again. “We have an arrangement. I babysit three nights a week. The rest of the time I live here. Alone. It works for all of us.”

Steve grins into the darkness. Humour has crept into Mālama’s voice. It makes him sound much more human. “Danny and I have an arrangement too,” he hears himself confessing quietly. “He’s given me his heart and I’m not going to break it.”

“And you, have you given him your heart?”

Steve blinks. This isn’t a subject he discusses with anyone. Ever. He’s not sure why he is now. “Yes.”

“Perhaps you should tell him that.”

Instantly annoyed with the old man all over again, he opens his mouth to argue. Before he can, Mālama raises a finger to his lips. “Sshh,” he tells him, gesturing at the second door that they are now walking past. “Mai is asleep.”

The half-open door reveals another room. It’s much smaller than the one he and Danny are in but it’s also lit by a camping light. The faint glow reveals another stretcher. Mai is lying on it, swamped by blankets. Just her face and long, dark hair are visible. She opens her eyes and gives them a sleepy smile before burrowing back under the covers.

Steve waits until they’re away from the door before whispering: “How’s she doing?”

“Much better,” Mālama assures him. They walk a couple more steps. “The people who use this poison, they are evil.”

Steve understands the anger in Mālama’s voice. It reminds him that he should be asking more questions about the poison, particularly who might know about it. But even this short walk has tired him. When the world suddenly tilts again, it’s only Mālama’s tight grip on his arm that stops him from landing on his butt.

A few more steps and he’s being guided around the edge of the lanai, around the corner of the cabin. There’s another room built on the end: the bathroom. As Mālama closes the door, giving him privacy, he checks out the room.

Compared to everything else he’s seen it’s luxurious. The wooden walls and floors have gaps in them, letting in the smells and sounds of the jungle. But there’s a battered old steel roll-top bath alongside a metal bowl being used as a sink and a surprisingly normal looking toilet. Light is being provided by a candle, balanced on the edge of the bath.

Using the edge of the bath for balance he manages to navigate around the bathroom and use the toilet without incident. Feeling relieved and knackered in equal parts, he heads back outside. As he steps back onto the lanai, warning bells sound in his head.

Mālama is standing where he left him. But as the faint light from the bathroom illuminates his silhouette, it’s clear his body language has changed. The calm demeanor has gone. He’s on full alert.

Steve pulls the bathroom door shut. They’re thrown back into darkness. Moving carefully, he steps up beside Mālama. “Something wrong?”

Mālama tilts his head, listening. “There are people coming up the mountain.”

Steve releases the breath he’s been holding. “It’ll be someone from the team at the bottom of the mountain, coming to check on us.”

“They’re not using the track we used to bring you up here. They’re coming up through the jungle.” Steve’s already moving, planning to check the satellite phone, when Mālama’s eyes widen in understanding. “I can feel them through the ‘āina.”

Steve stops. Panic blooms behind his rib cage. “They have powers.”

“Why can’t I see them? Even in the darkness I should be able to see something.”

Steve’s heart stops. He’s been here before. “They’re Shadow Shifters, Mālama. They’re coming for us.”

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Steve peers into the darkness. He can’t see or hear anything but he’s not going to argue with Mālama. Gripping Mālama’s shoulder in warning, he indicates they should talk quietly. “Wake up Mai. I’ll tell Danny.”

Not waiting for answer, he weaves his way back along the lanai. Now he’s been upright for a while the dizziness is easing but walking in a straight line still takes effort. Making it to the main living space, he’s not surprised to see Danny’s up and checking the satellite phone. He allows himself a moment of light-headed relief that Danny looks better – _much_ better – before focusing on the problem at hand.

“You heard.” He gestures at the phone. “You raised Junior or Tani?”

Danny smooths back his hair, a clear sign he’s frustrated. “It’s saying there’s no signal.”

Steve curses silently. “Thick vegetation,” he explains, struggling to keep his voice low as Danny stabs at the buttons on the phone again. “No way for a signal to get through, not even a satellite.”

“Great. Just great.” Danny discards the phone. “You think they’re okay?”

“Tani and Junior?” Steve kills the unhelpful images his mind supplies him with. He forces a weak smile. “They can look after themselves and they’ve got help.” 

Danny eyes him doubtfully and he’s not surprised. There are Shape Shifters out there, people with powers they have limited knowledge of. But he’s also pretty sure it’s not Tani and Junior or the SEAL Team those Shape Shifters are after. Which means they need to get ready to defend themselves. Now.

Reaching out to touch Danny’s arm reminds him that the Shape Shifters aren’t the only ones with power. As before, warmth travels up his arm: the power of the ‘āina. “How you doing?”

“Better.” Danny frowns. Sweeps the air around him with a flick of his hand. “Maybe? You?”

“Same.” He gets what Danny is saying. The dizziness, the nausea, it’s fading away. But in it’s place there’s a strange buzzing sensation. It’s in the air. Crawling across his skin. 

“It’s the ‘āina. She’s angry.”

Steve turns. Mālama’s standing in the doorway, his arm around Mai. Mai’s still wrapped in a blanket but her eyes are bright with awareness. “The satellite phone’s not working,” he cuts in. They haven’t got time for a discussion about the mood swings of the ‘āina. “You said your family live in the compound at the bottom of the mountain. How do you contact them?”

Mālama guides Mai to a chair, lowering her to it gently. “In an emergency? I have a flare.”

“A flare. Like in a boat?” Danny throws his hands in the air. “So we’re on our own.”

“We have the ‘āina.” Mālama shrugs, seemingly unperturbed by the sense of urgency in the room.

Steve shakes his head. “We can feel her but our powers…the poison—”

“—is no longer a problem.”

Steve shares a look with Danny. Mālama’s right. They can feel _something_. But it’s not normal. He’s about to explain that to Mālama, looking for guidance, when Danny raises his eyebrows and grins – a huge grin that promises trouble for someone. Before he can interpret it Danny’s ducking down, putting both palms flat on the wooden floor. He has a moment to register the shock on Danny’s face, his lips frozen in a surprised ‘O’. Then Danny turns pale – deathly pale – and folds into himself, slumping to the floor.

“No!” Steve falls to his knees beside him. Danny’s conscious but dazed, slow-blinking in confusion. Unthinking, he reaches out for him - and lands on his butt as power surges through him. Everything greys for a second as the wave rolls over him, then dumps him. The world spins, the blood draining from his brain. Only Mālama’s steadying hand on his back keeps him from passing out.

“Easy. Easy. I told you, she’s angry.”

Beside him, Danny rolls to his knees. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he squeezes his eyes shut. “You _think?_ ”

Steve forces his mouth to work. “What the hell was that?”

“The ‘āina. She’s beautiful.”

It’s not Mālama who’s breathed the words. It’s Mai. Blanket and chair discarded, she’s sitting on the floor. One palm is flat against the floorboards. The other is stretched out in front of her, a pale green light flickering above it. It’s mesmerising.

Mālama hums his approval. “Yes. Gentle. Like that.”

“You’re a Light Catcher,” Danny whispers, awe in his voice.

“A Fire Fly.” Steve confirms, using the more popular term to describe Mai’s powers. Dragging his eyes away from the flame he gets to his knees, an idea forming in his mind. “Mālama, we’re gonna need that flare.”

“You got an idea, babe?”

Steve takes the hand Danny’s offering him. Together they wobble to their feet. Holding Danny’s hand for a moment longer, he lets it go. “I have but you’re not going to like it.”

Danny sighs. It’s a familiar (and welcome) sound of long-suffering.

“We’re going to bring them to us.” He raises a hand for silence before Danny can protest. These are probably the people who kidnapped Danny from under his nose. He _wants_ them. “We need to know who is behind this. Whoever is coming up the mountain can help us.”

“So we need to capture them alive.” There’s a note of warning in Danny’s voice that suggests he already hates this plan. “How are we going to do that?”

“Not _we_. Me.”

“No—”

“We lure them in. I keep them busy long enough to get them in here.” Steve waves around the room to illustrate his point. “When they’re all close enough I give the signal you sing them to sleep.”

“So you’re the bait.” Danny’s expression makes it clear he does indeed hate the plan. “And where are the rest of us going to be while you’re playing Captain America?”

Steve curls his hand around Danny’s neck, resting it over the vulnerable curve at the base of his skull. He kisses him. Hard. Fast. Desperate. “Same place as always. Covering my back. Rescuing my ass.”

Danny’s answering grunt promises a long, uncomfortable conversation in the future about the questionable behaviour of self-sacrificing SEALs. But they’ve already wasted too much time. Pausing for one last kiss, Danny pulls away. “Okay. Where do you want us?”

H50H50H50H50

The ‘āina _is_ angry.

Steve can feel it pulsing through his palms, into his veins. Everything feels sharper, smells stronger. A memory flicks into his mind. The last time he felt power like this; a cave high in the mountains in Afghanistan. That engagement hadn’t ended well, at least not for the Taliban. 

The power running through him now flickers with excitement, like it can read his mind. 

_Not here. We need them alive._

The flicker dies, shuffling away like a sulky teenager. Not fooled, Steve moves carefully as he stands up. It’s taking all his self-control and training to not run outside and confront their attackers. Sweat trickles down his spine as he waits alone in the darkness for them to come.

He doesn’t have to wait long. A creaking floorboard is all the warning he gets. Then they’re on him. Shadows moving in the darkness, like a trick being played on his eyes.

Wrapping the power around him - an invisible shield - he takes the first hits. They’re fast, hard, rocking him back on his feet as they bounce off the shield. Anticipating them is impossible, it’s like fighting with ghosts. Instinct takes over. Ignoring what his eyes are telling him, he strikes back.

They’re real. Human flesh and blood. They grunt with pain as his fists sink into their flesh. The shadows flicker, waver, as one falls, quickly replaced with another. Encouraged, he pushes on.

It takes energy though to control the power from the ‘āina. She’s screaming to be let loose. She’s bleeding through, encouraging him to fight back with a fist to the throat instead of the solar plexus. And the shadows keep coming at him. Relentless. There’s no respite, no time to recharge his powers. He’s got no idea if all of their attackers are in the room yet. But he’s running out of time.

“Mai!”

Down in the corner behind him a pile of blankets start glowing: Mai’s hiding place. The light’s pale, barely there to start with. Gradually it gets brighter, turning green. Proving they are human, the shadows falter, blinded by the sudden light. 

Resisting the natural urge to look back at the light, Steve pushes home his advantage. But as the light grows, reaching out with a soft green glow to reveal the room, his heart sinks. Despite the hits he’s sure he’s landed there are no bodies on the floor. The small room is full of man-shaped shadows – and they’re still coming through the door. Some have got their hands raised to protect their eyes making him wonder, not for the first time, how they’re seeing in the dark. But gradually they’re adapting. Lowering their hands they’re splitting up, heading for Mai and the exit to the lanai. 

He can’t let them do that. Not yet. He needs all of them to come in closer, so they can’t escape the Angel of Death. If he misjudges this – if he lets even one of these Shadow Shifters escape - then Danny will be up here alone, unprotected, while he and the others are sleeping.

That’s not going to happen. Not again.

Closing his eyes and silently offering up a prayer, he lets the anger of the ‘āina loose.

Steve gasps as the power surges through him. It’s like nothing he’s felt before. His control of the protective shield around him almost slips. The man-shaped shadows around him falter. For a second he wonders what they can see. Then everything blurs and it’s like he’s watching his body from the outside as he attacks the shadows with a fresh brutality that he’d been to struggling to contain.

Now the bodies start falling. And they don’t get up again. ‘ _We need them alive’_ a voice in his head that sounds like Danny reminds him. Digging deep to control his power, he tries to obey. Everything blurs again, as he fights an internal battle. The shadows keep coming, hitting him in a physical wave. The green light flickers, fades, and this time he can’t resist the urge to look back, to check if Mai’s okay. 

She’s not: the blanket’s been pulled back, a man-shaped shadow is looming over her. She’s glaring up at it, defiant. The green light’s growing again, darker this time, pulsing angrily. But beyond it he can see the exhaustion in her face. 

The ‘āina is urging him to keep fighting, to kill those who have invaded her land. In his head though he can see an image of Mai and her baby. The newborn that needs its mom. It’s time to call in reinforcements.

“Danny!”

All the Shadow Shifters turn their attention towards him. Baring his teeth, Steve goads them on. They take the bait, hitting him like a wall. Staggering, he fights back but their fists are starting to break through. Not even the anger of the ‘āina is enough to hold them back.

He’s about to yell again when the room lights up, bright orange. Mālama’s released the flare from his hiding place outside, behind the cabin. The last few Shadow Shifters who are standing cover their eyes and stumble. Blinking rapidly to clear his own vision, Steve takes them out.

It’s not enough though. The bastards keep getting back up again, like robots who don’t know when to give up. He’s almost drained of power when he hears what he’s been waiting for: the first few notes of Danny’s song.

The Shadow Shifters hear it too: as one they try to get past him and Mai. Throwing himself bodily on top of them, he tackles the first few to the ground. Someone grabs his hair, bangs his head against the floorboards. Hands grab his wrists, pulling them away from contact with the ‘āina. Mai screams.

And Danny sings. He sings like Steve has never heard before.

Fear slides down his spine as the notes weave their way into his senses. There’s an angry edge to them that puts all his senses on alert. There’s nothing he can do about it though – there’s no defence – as consciousness slips away.

The last thing he sees before he passes out is Danny standing in the doorway. Danny’s compact, powerful body – the one he worships in their bed – is looming over everybody. His soft blue eyes are hard as flint. Glowing with the power of the ‘āina as he sings, he appears undefeatable. He is the stuff of legends and of nightmares. 

Danny is The Angel of Death.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**_Two days later_ **

Steve comes awake slowly. A dream is lingering in his mind, holding him in the space between sleep and consciousness. Something in the back of his mind nudges him, a worry insisting on being heard. Reluctantly he opens his eyes.

He’s in his own bed. He’s stretched out alongside Danny, his cheek resting against Danny’s ribcage, his arm slung over Danny’s waist. The blankets are pooled at the bottom of the bedstead. A light breeze from the open windows is cooling his naked skin. Licking his lips he realises his been drooling into Danny’s chest hair. Scrunching his face, he tries to pull away. 

“Sshh.”

Taking the hint, he tucks back in. Danny’s stroking his hair back, a gentle, rhythmic touch. The room smells of sex and sweat. Danny had woken him early, his body restless, his eyes desperate for _something._ Willingly he’d let Danny fuck him. It had been slow and easy, the act more about the contact than the sex. Afterwards he’d held Danny close, soothing him back to sleep.

Steve’s not sure at which point they changed positions but he’s not complaining. Deep bruises litter his torso, twinging occasionally. They’re a reminder of how close they came to disaster. Inhaling deeply, breathing in Danny’s scent, he’s also reminder how lucky he is to have this.

Closing his eyes, he drifts.

It’s two days since he regained consciousness, up in Mālama’s cabin. Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was three huge Native Hawaiian men, carrying machetes and shotguns, standing guard over the tied-up Shape Shifters. Quickly they’d been joined by Junior, Tani and a SEAL Team. Chaos had threatened. Words – very loud words – had been shared. It had only been the appearance of Danny – using Mālama as a human walking stick – that had calmed everything down.

The three Hawaiian men, it had turned out, were three of Mālama's many grandchildren. Eventually he’d found himself being helped back down the mountain by Junior. Danny was close behind, propped up by Tani. Mālama and Mai had been carried down by his grandsons. They’d finally reached the bottom as the sun started to rise, flooding the valley with warm, orange light and birdsong.

The Shape Shifters they’d left to the SEAL Team. 

Part of him had wanted to stay, to get answers. One look at Danny’s face had told him that was going to happen over his dead body. Later, as they’d climbed into the chopper that had been sent to retrieve them, he’d been grateful Danny had made him leave. Slinging an arm over Danny’s shoulder he’d pulled him close, not caring what anyone thought. Now the power had drained from his body he felt hollow. Exhausted.

Danny had looked worse. He’d looked haunted.

It’s a look that Danny’s been carrying ever since. Not all the time. They’ve slept, they’ve eaten (a _lot)_ , they’ve fucked and once or twice they’ve even laughed. But what happened up in the cabin is hanging over them like a dark cloud.

Opening his eyes, taking a deep breath, he jumps in. “You want to talk about it?”

The hand stroking his hair stops. Silence follows. He’s about to give up when Danny sighs. It’s a heavy sound. His heart aches for the man he loves.

Danny starts stroking his hand again, slower this time. “I can’t stop thinking about what happened on the mountain. That power, it was off the charts. I felt like…” He trails off. Sighs again. “You felt anything like that before?”

Steve swallows a sigh of his own. Danny knows he doesn’t like talking about how he’d used his powers during his time as a Navy SEAL. He wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t have to. But he’s glad Danny can’t see his face as he talks. 

“Afghanistan. There were these caves, ten klicks out of Kabul. Man…one touch of the sand with your hand and you were flying. I mean, you _really_ felt like you were flying, like you were invincible.” A shiver runs down his spine at the memory. “We all slept for 48 hours straight after that one.”

Danny’s hand slides down, to rest on the back of his neck. He squeezes gently. “People died?”

“People always died, Danny. That was the point.” The words have come out much harsher than he intended. He shifts to make eye contact but Danny still him with his hand.

“What I did to those Shape Shifters. I could have…I could have killed them. The song changed. If I’d pushed just a little harder…” Another silence. Heavier. “It’s never felt like that before.”

“I know.” Brushing his lips against lips against Danny’s ribcage, he plants a soft kiss. He’d felt the anger of the ‘āina too. Recognised its power. There’s a difference between him and Danny though: “You wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

“You don’t know that—”

Steve raises his head, rests his chin on Danny’s chest. Now he can see Danny’s eyes, the unhappiness in them. Anger flares, but not at Danny. “I know _you_.”

Danny looks away. “Maybe they’re right, maybe I am the Angel of Death.”

Steve kisses him again. Harder this time, with a nip of his teeth added in.

“Ow.” Danny glares at him. “What was that for?”

“To break up the pity party.” Not breaking eye contact with Danny, he soothes the nip mark with another kiss. “I’m not gonna lie, Danny. You looked scary as hell up there. And it worked.” He lets a hint of grim satisfaction creep into his voice. “Those bastards, they didn’t know what hit them. But did I think I was in danger? Of course not, what are you insane?”

Danny huffs, tugs him up to pull him in closer. “Thanks, babe. Now you’ve got me questioning my sanity, not for the first time of course but—”

“ _Danny_ —"

“I’m kidding.” Danny’s tone suggests otherwise but Steve lets it slide. “So, this is it, huh? We’re gonna be Captain America and the Angel of Death forever now. We take Charlie to the beach at weekends and people will be looking—”

“I think they were looking anyway.”

“What?”

“At you. I think they were already looking at you.”

Danny rolls his eyes at him, exasperated. “I don’t think it was me they were looking at, Steven, but thanks for the ego boost.” He curls down like a pretzel to swoop in for a kiss. “And stop changing the subject. I was being serious—”

“So was I. And for the record, I’m more of a Jigglypuff man.”

Danny laughs, a warm rumbling sound that echoes in his chest, against Steve’s cheek. “Do you know how weird that sounds?”

“Really?” Steve tries for his most innocent voice but knows he’s failing. “So you don’t want me to say that in front of the team?”

“No.”

“Or the Governor?”

“No!”

“Or your Mom—”

“ _No._ Why would you even suggest that, you—”

He quashes Danny’s horrified voice with a kiss. It’s not often he uses his height to his advantage in the bedroom but he does now. Planting his hands either side of Danny’s head, he swings his leg over his hips. Kneeling over him he deepens the kiss, putting all the reassurance and love he can into it. 

When Danny arches up to return the kiss, he knows his message has been received. They indulge themselves for a little longer, comforting each other with their hands and lips. It’s not long before they reluctantly pull apart though. Today, they have other priorities.

Sitting up, Steve swings his legs over the side of the bed. Ruffling his hair, he tries to get his thoughts straight. “What time is our meeting with the Governor?”

Danny plants a kiss on his shoulder blade before getting out of bed too. “Lou’s meeting us there at 10.”

Steve pulls on a tee-shirt and shorts and heads downstairs while Danny showers. A quick glance out of the kitchen window as he fills the kettle brings reality crashing back in. The HPD police guard ordered by the Governor are still parked at the end of his drive.

He huffs with disappointment. He’s been a cop – and in naval intelligence – long enough to know that intel takes time to connect together. This case, no matter how personal, is no different. Capturing the Shape Shifters had just been another part of the puzzle. They’re going to have to be patient for a while longer.

Being patient isn’t part of his skill set.

As he makes breakfast, he ruminates over the case. They’re still no closer to finding out who Ho Lua is or where to find him. The mercenary employed by Ho Lua, Bob – or whatever his real name is – is still out there somewhere. It’s not a surprise, the guy’s a top level mercenary. The fact the Navy took custody of the Shape Shifters hadn’t been a surprise either. They’re experts in dealing with people with powers. It rankles though, the lack of control. The fact that now the Navy probably know more than he and Danny do. And people will be hunting through his service record, looking for clues. Records he’d hoped had been buried a long time ago.

Fear prickles across his skin. He’s not ashamed of what he or his Team did in the Navy – far from it – but there are things he never wants to share. Not even with Danny. Particularly not with Danny.

Not for the first time he wishes there was someone out there with the power to turn back time. Just a few weeks. Far enough back so he wouldn’t have used his powers to rescue Danny. So that none of this shit-fest would have happened.

Trying to jostle his brain out of the dark place it’s retreated to, he plays with that idea as he makes coffee. He definitely would have confessed his feelings to Danny much earlier. They’ve wasted _so_ much time. 

He’s just working through all the ways he could have confessed his feelings – instead of just blurting it out one night over beers – when there’s a knock at the front door. Freezing, he cocks his head. Listens. Nobody is supposed to be coming to the house without HPD calling it in first.

There’s another knock, louder this time.

Dropping what he’s doing, he checks the kitchen window again. The police car is still there but there’s no one in it. Moving quietly, he reaches up on tiptoe to retrieve his hidden gun from on top of one of the cabinets. Flicking the safety, he moves through to the living room. Sliding up next to the front door, he looks through the spy hole.

It’s the Governor.

Frowning, he glances back over his shoulder. Danny is where he always is, watching his back - standing at the top of the stairs, wearing only a pair of sleep shorts, he’s got his gun drawn. He raises his eyebrows when Steve whispers what’s happening. Raising his gun, he nods.

Raising his own gun, Steve opens the door.

His respect for the Governor grows when she doesn’t flinch, despite being confronted by an armed ex-Navy SEAL dressed in sleep wear. Her eyes flicker when she catches sight of Danny, on the stairs. As they slide back to meet Steve’s, she smiles ruefully. “Perhaps I should have called.”

Steve doesn’t lower his gun. The Governor isn’t alone. There’s a woman with her, someone he doesn’t know. Worse, the Governor doesn’t have her protection detail with her. He keeps his gaze fixed on the stranger. “Perhaps you should introduce us.”

“Jenny Lee,” the stranger offers, without prompting from the governor. “I’m the temporary Grand Master of the Guild of Magical Practitioners of Hawaii.”

Steve scrutinises her, not sure he believes her. He’d been expecting someone like Archer. This woman looks like he imagines Kono will look in twenty years time. Her style of dress is more casual than Archer’s too. Still smart, it’s more island-style, less mainland. Not lowering his gun, he turns his attention back to the Governor. “We were supposed to be meeting at your office.”

“There’s been a change of plan.” The Governor gestures at his gun. “My protection detail are at the bottom of your driveway by the way, Steve. I didn’t want to scare your neighbours. You might want to lower your gun though. I think you’re starting to make them twitch.”

On cue, a man in a suit detaches himself from the shadow of the bushes at the end of the drive. Catching Steve’s eye, he rests his hand on his gun.

Steve acknowledges the nod. Keeping both hands in clear sight, he lowers his own weapon.

“Excellent,” the Governor says brightly, as if they hadn’t just been seconds from a fire fight. “Can we come in?”

“Sure.” As he steps back, he realises Danny’s coming down the stairs. It takes everything he has not to laugh as Danny confidently strides past them in nothing but his sleep pants. “Laundry,” he explains, as Danny disappears into the kitchen and closes the door behind him. “We keep the clean laundry in there.”

The guests sit on the couch. Steve sits on the recliner. An awkward silence follows.

Danny breaks it by striding back in from the kitchen. Dressed now, he’s carrying a tray with a French coffee press, mugs and two glasses of water. Putting everything out on the coffee table, he pulls over a spare chair. Settled, he smiles at the Governor. “Milk and sugar?”

Steve doesn’t hear the Governor’s answer, or Lee’s. He’s fixated on the tatty denim shirt Danny’s wearing. It’s at least two years old. He knows this because it’s the shirt Danny was wearing the first night they made love. He has a very clear memory of sliding it off Danny’s shoulders. Of kissing Danny’s skin as the fabric slid away.

“Steve? Coffee?”

Blinking, Steve looks into Danny’s eyes. The bastard, he knows exactly what he’s done. He’d be annoyed (and a lot more frustrated) he thinks, if he didn’t understand that this is a _fuck you,_ to Archer’s replacement, to The Guild. They’ve invaded their house and Danny’s not happy about it.

He’s not either.

Grabbing a glass of water from the tray, he downs it in one. Today is the last day they need to drink Mālama’s cure. He’s glad: it still tastes disgusting. 

“The cure for the poison.” Lee is watching Danny drink his glass of water. Lips pursed, she frowns. “You were lucky to find the cure when you did.”

Danny stills, mid-sip. His expression turns hard. “Yeah, we were lucky. No thanks to the Guild. Where were you, huh? We nearly lost him, did you know that?”

Steve flinches at the pain in Danny’s voice. Reaching out blindly, he rests his hand on Danny’s thigh. 

Lee lowers her eyes. “I’m sorry we weren’t here when you needed us.” She raises her eyes. Looks them both in the eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

Steve’s surprised to find that he actually believes her. Under his hand, he can feel Danny relax slightly. That doesn’t mean she’s off the hook. Not by a long way. First though, the Governor’s got some explaining to do. “Why are you here?”

The Governor tilts her head, eyebrows raised. For a second he thinks he’s overstepped the boundary between them. Then she picks up her coffee, sips at it. Nodding her thanks at Danny, she rests it on her lap. “We’re here because I’m worried my office has been compromised.” 

Steve shares a worried look with Danny. The Governor’s not just talking about her actual office. She’s talking about the organisation that is the government of the islands.

“Henry Archer’s body was found yesterday in the desert outside Las Vegas. He’d been shot. Someone left him to bleed out. Probably the same person who made an anonymous 911 call on a burner phone. The coroner thinks it would have been hours before he finally died.”

Their new Grand Master has delivered the news without a flicker of emotion. Steve revaluates her again. “Someone was sending a message,” he muses out loud. “They want us to know he was involved in whatever’s going on.”

The Governor sips again at her coffee. “I will be carrying out an investigation into his connection with my office. The people he worked with. The confidential records he had access to.”

“The Guild will be carrying out an investigation too,” Lee adds quietly. 

“So do you think he’s been selling confidential state records as well the records held by the Guild?” Danny’s voice reflects the doubt that Steve is feeling too. “Why do you think that? I get that Archer was a douchebag but I doubt he had access to anything that sensitive. Or had enough imagination to know what he could do with it.” Danny studies the Governor’s face. At her closed expression. Frowns. “Or did he?”

The Governor shares another look with Lee. “It’s starting to look like…it looks like this goes beyond Ho Lua, Archer and the Hawaiian Islands. Maybe even the mainland.”

Steve sits up straight. Every warning bell in his head has gone off. “What do you mean?”

Placing her coffee mug back on the tray, she meets his gaze. “Ho Lua was an alias. And it’s a female, not a male. Your colleagues in Navy Intelligence got us the real name from the Shadow Shifters. Daiyu Mei.”

Steve shakes his head. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Danny doing the same. “Should we know her?”

“You should. You killed her husband.”

 _I’ve killed a lot of husbands,_ Steve almost replies. Instead he answers with a curt shake of the head.

The Governor’s expression softens. “There’s another reason I’m worried that my office may have been compromised. She was married to Wo Fat.”

Steve surges to his feet, shrugging off Danny’s hand as he reaches out. “So that’s what all this was for - revenge.”

“Perhaps.”

Steve knows that none of this is Lee’s fault but he needs someone to direct his anger at. “ _Perhaps_? You didn’t know Wo Fat. Do you know what he did to my Dad? To me? And she took Danny. She took Danny from right here in this house. Right _here_.”

Lee shifts in her seat. “What she did here, yes it does look like revenge. However, as disturbing as that is there’s more to this than just what’s happened here. Money. Power. International terrorism.”

“Excuse _me_?”

Steve paces away as Danny waits for an answer to his question. Hearing Wo Fat’s name again, knowing that he’s indirectly involved in Danny’s kidnap, it’s unearthed an anger that he thought he’d come to terms with a long time ago.

“She’s in London.”

Steve swings back round. “You’re sure?”

“MI5 picked her up coming through London Docklands on a private jet.” The Governor opens her briefcase. Pulling out a photograph, she passes it over to Danny.

Steve studies the photo over Danny’s shoulder. He doesn’t recognise the woman in the photo. But there’s someone coming off the plane with her he does recognise: Bob. “They’ve picked her up?”

“No.”

“Why not, they got her right here.” Danny stabs at the photo for emphasis. “What do they want, a written invitation from us to pick her up?”

Lee clears her throat. “She’s training an army of mercenaries.”

“An army?” Steve sits back down. There’s a reason the representative from The Guild is delivering the news and not the Governor. “An army with powers?”

“Several of the men who were in the warehouse where Danny was held have flown out to Guangzhou province. That’s where they think Daiyu Mei’s training camp is.”

Danny whistles under his breath. “That’s not a coincidence. There’s no way those guys could afford to fly out there. No way.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to get everything straight in his head. “You said ‘ _they think’._ Who thinks that?”

“MI6.” The Governor takes back the photo. “They had an operation running in Hong Kong. Found a shipping container bound for China full of men. They thought it was a straightforward people smuggling operation until they realised they have powers.”

Horrified, Steve rubs his palms across his face. He’s served in the war zones these guys will be trained for. Without years of military training behind them they’ll stand no chance. “It’ll be a massacre.”

“Undoubtedly,” the Governor agrees, sadly. “That’s why they’ve asked for our assistance. Well, _your_ assistance.” She raises her hand as he opens his mouth to argue. “No one knows Wo Fat or his connections better than you.”

He protests anyway. “She’s not Wo Fat.”

“You said it yourself. She was married to him. She knew how he operated. Some of that must have rubbed off.”

Steve lowers his eyes. Every cell in his body wants to be on the first plane to London. But his life has changed. Danny comes first. 

“Okay, we’re done here. We’ll talk it over and we’ll call you.”

Steve looks up in surprise. The Governor and Lee look equally stunned. Danny’s getting to his feet, signaling with a wave of his hand that the meeting is over.

Steve lets Danny show them out. His mind is whirring with questions. So many questions. Uppermost, he’s wondering what Danny thinks. 

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out. Danny turns back to him as soon as he’s shut the front door. “We need to go to London.”

It’s not the response Steve was expecting. Grabbing the denim shirt he loves so much, he reels Danny in. “We don’t have to. Wo Fat’s dead. It’s not our problem to clean up.”

Danny bobs his head from side to side. “You don’t believe that.”

Steve’s heart sinks to the floor. “Neither do you.”

Danny tugs him down by the front of his tee-shirt. “Then we’re going.” He kisses him, lingering. “We do this, Wo Fat and his family are out of our lives forever.”

Steve’s not sure that will ever be true. Wo Fat has left a mark on both their lives that will never be erased. But helping to stop Daiyu Mei will make the world safer for Charlie, Grace and Joanie. Safer too for people with powers, like him and Danny.

Wrapping his arms around Danny’s shoulders, he hugs him. They sway on the spot. Back in the day heading overseas to hunt terrorists used to be his sole purpose in life. Not anymore. All he wants is _this._ Forever.

But he knows Danny’s right. So they’re going. But when they come back, they’re going on vacation. Somewhere hot. An island in the middle of nowhere. No phones or internet to interrupt them. Just the two of them. Naked together on a beach.

Holding that image in his head, he goes to call the Governor. 

The end (of this part)


End file.
